


Ghosts

by FriendOfTheFugitive



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Comfort Sex, Comfort/Angst, Dark, Desire Demons (Dragon Age), Dorian Pavus Has Issues, Drowning, Envy Demons (Dragon Age), Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Fear, Gore, Headcanon, Insanity, M/M, Major Character Injury, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Solas Spoilers, Temporary Character Death, Temptation, Thriller, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 22:15:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 23,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5392301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendOfTheFugitive/pseuds/FriendOfTheFugitive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> There was a moment when all Dorian wanted to do was give in, to finally let go of all the pain fighting has caused him. It was all within his reach, but that damn elf's voice echoed in the back of his mind; he had never been more thankful. </i> </p><p>Something is lurking deep within the Inquisition's ranks. It's goal is Dorian, and the prize is the Inquisitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Death

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So, I really wanted to write a darker type of story and this is what manifested. Thanks for reading, I'll be updating every few days! :D
> 
> EDIT: I'm actually going to try my hardest not to abandon this if I don't receive a lot of feedback. It's a risky sort of story and I get it. I did take it out of the My Dear Inquisitor series only because I already have a mini series in there, and this one is definitely more explicit and darker. It is based around the same characters and my headcanon of their relationship dynamic. :)

_“Death is only the beginning.” -Unknown_

 

“You stink, Amatus," Dorian teased as he glided the tip of his nose up the curve of Ferron's neck. He placed a sweet kiss on his jawline as a soft, blissful smile pulled at the corner of his lips. His knuckle grazed over the notches in Ferron's spine as they stretched beneath his hand.

Ferron nuzzled Dorian's hair with his nose before he kissed his temple. “I love your compliments, Dorian. They brighten my day." He chuckled lowly, his hands traced over the familiar contours of Dorian's chest.  “What are you prepared to do about it? I don't plan on leaving this bed until I absolutely have to.” He teased lightly as his fingertips tapped against Dorian's ribs.

“Well, my dear Inquisitor, I could draw you a bath. Perhaps I will join you, if you will have me.” He kissed the small upturn of Ferron's lips, pressing their foreheads together.

Ferron smiled, “I think I would enjoy that.”

“Good,” Dorian hummed before he untangled himself from Ferron's limbs and sat up on the bed. He ran his fingers through his hair, making it halfway decent before he removed himself from the bed. He was completely nude, and he could feel Ferron's eyes sweep over his back, drinking in his features once more. He moved around the room, picking up bits of clothing and putting them on as he went.

Ferron sat up before stretching out his back and scratching his head. He gazed sleepily at Dorian, a light smile on his face. Dorian buttoned up his tunic, his back was turned towards Ferron. When his hands were free, he threw a fire spell into the hearth, igniting the logs and starting up the heating process of the kettle full of water. “I am going to retrieve some wine and literature. If we are going to relax, might as well do it correctly.”

“Come here,” Ferron requested as he outstretched his hands towards Dorian. The mage moved back towards the bed and Ferron wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him inwards, placing a sweet kiss on his lips. “Hurry back _Vhenan_.” He spoke in a sultry whisper, his lips brushing against Dorian's before he pulled away and readjusted himself on the mattress, hoping to grab the last few moments of sleep he felt still heavy on his conscious.

Dorian was in the main hall, not really minding the public who witnessed his unusually disheveled state. He climbed the rotunda stairs wearily, still lost in the warm arms of a sex induced sleep. Once he reached his little alcove, he thumbed through a stack of books and grabbed his favorites to read on his day of relaxation. Before he left, he retrieved the red wine he had been saving from the hidden side of his chair. He turned to leave when something caught his eye.

It was a scrap of parchment Ferron had hidden in one of his books, something that was commonly done. However, the piece of paper was crumpled and left on his rug. Dorian shifted the contents to one arm before he bent down and picked up the sketch. He hadn’t seen it before. It was a bust of Ferron with serious expression, something not so common. It was more detailed than the usual sketches he drew, and the eyes were eerily somber. Dorian almost didn’t recognize it as being Ferron.

He flipped the paper to look at the back, hoping for a note that explained the sketch. He saw Ferron’s left handed scrawl across the paper, it read: _Too dark, keep away from Dorian but don’t throw away. Need reference. P.S. Keep away from Sera; she’ll make it happy._ It was followed by his loopy signature. Dorian shrugged and turned it back to the sketch. He examined it, feeling like the picture was staring back, or like it was somehow alive. He jumped when a breathless voice came from behind him.

“Dorian," Sera started, more serious that Dorian had ever heard her be. Clear liquid rimmed her eyes, threatening to the reapply the fading red stains on her cheeks. “It's Ferron...he's...” the words stuck in her throat as the tears spilled over. A sob shook her body, almost claiming the word from reaching Dorian's ears, “ _dead_.”

His heart stopped in his chest as a low ringing echoed in his ears. This wasn't some silly prank Sera conjured up - her emotions were real. He dropped what he had in his hands. The wine glass shattered against the floor, the red liquid claimedd the scrap of paper and brushed along the pages of his books, staining them. His words were lost, creating a numbness that consumed him. Sera was shaking him, aggressively trying to get him to come back to her. His eyes moved slightly, connecting with her gaze. “Show me,” he whispered.

They sprinted towards the gates, Dorian couldn't feel his legs. He stopped dead when he spotted the crowd that gathered around the opening of the gate. Cullen was trying to keep the crowd back, and Bull was making sure that things didn’t get out of control. Sera slipped into the crowd with Dorian at her heels. When he got to the center, Cassandra blocked his path. She placed her hands on his chest, using all her strength to keep him in place. “Dorian, you shouldn't see him . . .”

He didn't want to, but he had too. He looked around her, spotting the red that pooled in the grass. “No . . . I just left him in the room not two minutes ago . . .” His voice was distant, denial seeping through his vocal cords. Dorian's eyes drifted to his face as a wave of emotion crashed down upon him. It looked like the sketch, cold and unwelcoming. A complete stranger, but all too familiar.

“We found him a few hours ago, Dorian . . .” Cassandra whispered, fighting back her own emotions over the loss of her best friend. Dorian shook his head as tears began to pour from his eyes. He pushed past Cassandra, not facing much of a fight from her. He dropped to his knees next to Ferron's body. His hand shook as it reached towards the elf's still features. His skin was cold and unresponsive.

From his balcony, Ferron gazed out into the courtyard. When Dorian didn't return and sleep decided to allude him, he slipped on his clothes and went over some reports that were on the back of his mind. After losing interest, he moved to the balcony, wanting to get some fresh air. Concern crossed onto his face when he saw Dorian sprint across the courtyard. From where he was standing, he couldn't see what the crowd was gathered around, but he never saw Dorian reappear from the crowd. He decided to go down there. This was his Inquisition, after all.

Dorian couldn't bring himself to touch the body, no matter how much he wanted to. He wanted to gather his dead lover up in his arms and unleash every bit of emotion he felt burst in his core. This couldn't be real, something was wrong, there was no way the Inquisitor would be caught off guard. The man was jumpy when people stepped too hard on tile. Tears were pouring from his eyes as silent sobs drowned his body.

“Dorian? What's going on...? _Oh my_...” Ferron covered his mouth at the scene. The smell of death had never hit him so hard before. His world was spinning on it's axis, ripping apart at the seams. Crimson life pooled around the corpse, staining the once emerald grass. Staring back at him were cold eyes, absent of any sort of life. Everything was quiet except for the pounding heart beat in his ears. The eyes that stared back at him were his own. His body retched over as vomit spilled from his lips. His body shook and tears trailed down his nose, dripping quietly to the earth.

“ _Ferron?_ ” Dorian whispered, his voice breaking.

“Restrain this _imposter_!” Cullen snarled from the crowd.

“ _Don't-!_ ”

Ferron was suddenly plastered against the ground as his hands were being tied behind his back. The screaming in the crowd came from every direction. His companions were fighting to keep him free. Dorian didn't move from his spot, staring at Ferron with disbelief.


	2. Envy

_“We know what we are but not what we may be.” - William Shakespeare_

 

“Let me go! I’m the real Inquisitor! I’m Ferron!” He pleaded, his voice was rough. Cullen had him on his feet, holding him by the tight bindings that burned into his chafed flesh with every flex of his muscles.

“We cannot be certain of that,” Cullen answered sternly. There was fear in his eyes but his features were hard. His first priority was protecting those around him.

Leliana and Dorian were by the body. Dorian was still in shock, turning into a quiet statue. Leliana was crouched, her hand gently flipped the corpse so it was on its back. His throat was cut, but the blade used was jagged. The skin was torn and mangled, his once white shirt was covered in blood. “This was not the work of an assassin.” She announced to whoever would listen in the inner circle that gathered around.

“How did no one see this happen? Skyhold is not exactly an empty place.” Cassandra inquired, still wary about the events. It was harder to focus while the Inquisitor, who was supposed to be dead, was trying to shout his innocence.

“I’m not sure. The gate is under constant watch but the killer could have passed as a refugee, stopped the Inquisitor, and slit his throat.” Leliana slowly unbuttoned the corpse’s shirt, checking for any other wounds that could further elaborate who or how this was done. “Certain factions have distinct killing styles—“

“That’s not Ferron.” Dorian spoke in a broken whisper, almost as if he was using his voice for the first time in years. He leaned forward, once again extending his hand to touch the body. His fingers brushed along the unmarked skin of his left shoulder. He held back a sob before mellowing it out with a shaky breath.

“How can you be sure . . .” Cullen started but trailed off when Dorian slowly got to his feet. The group watched with apprehension as Dorian slowly approached Ferron. He wouldn’t meet the elf’s gaze. Dorian’s eyes were stuck on Ferron’s neck, trying to reassure himself that he wasn’t really dead. He slowly unbuttoned Ferron’s shirt. Despite having done so a thousand times, his hands were shaking wildly and he held his breath as if he would break Ferron with the slightest of moves.

“It’s alright, Dorian . . .” Ferron whispered, trying to find the mage’s eyes.

Cullen tightened his grip, “Don’t speak,” he practically barked the order. He was remembering the events of the circle, and how the demons could control Templars with nothing but a suggestion.

Dorian’s hand moved the fabric from Ferron’s shoulder. His fingertips brushed along the responsive, warm skin of Ferron’s chest. He stopped when he felt the ridges of his star-shaped scar on the front of his shoulder. He breathed a sigh of relief, “Ferron . . .”

Cullen stared at Dorian with surprise. “You are _positive_ , Dorian?” His grip loosened on Ferron.

Dorian looked directly into Ferron’s gaze, spotting the familiar, playfully warm gaze that shown through the panic that coated his keen eyes. His hands gently cupped Ferron’s cheeks. He tried to keep the blood from staining his untarnished skin that was hot with life. “I’m positive, let him go so we can figure this mess out.”

Cullen took out a dagger, preparing to cut the bindings, but Leliana spoke – stopping him dead in his movements. “There is no proof other than the testament of a lover who could be under some sort of influence. I would like to trust you, Dorian, but we cannot have another incident such as this.” She stood from the body, shooting a pointed glance at Solas. The elf was studying the situation quietly from the crowd.

“This could be the work of a demon; such a thing is not impossible. I assume it would be a spirit of envy – however, they usually isolate their victim, trapping them within their own minds until they have sufficiently studied their target. A far as we know, Ferron has had his mind this entire time. Assuming that this demon somehow copied the Inquisitor’s face, the question that remains is who killed it and how did it get here?”

“I just want to know if this demon is dead. I don’t want that thing lurking around Skyhold, trying to get inside our heads . . .” Iron Bull cut in, a visible shiver ran up his spine.

Solas looked at Ferron. The elf still hadn’t broke eye contact with Dorian. The couple was in their own world, a grief induced, silently harrowing bubble. “Ferron . . .?” he inquired gently. The raw emotion they exchanged was painful to watch.

Dorian gently removed his hands from Ferron. He cringed when he saw some blood smeared across his freckled cheeks. “I’m sorry . . .” he whispered as he finally dropped his gaze. Dorian moved to Ferron’s side. His back was turned towards the corpse. Ferron watched him closely. He wanted nothing more than to grab Dorian and allow him to feel every emotion he was trying to bury within himself.

“Inquisitor, have you been having any strange dreams? Specifically relating to the fade?” Solas continued his questioning. If this truly was a demon or a spirit, figuring out its motivation would be the first step into finding out how all of this happened.

“No Solas. I dream of the fade as much as any mage.” He pulled against the bindings once more, his flight instinct was kicking in. He tried to keep his eyes away from the body, but the image kept burning past his mind. “Whatever this thing is, it’s dead. Right?”

Solas paused, “Presumably, yes. If a being is possessed, killing the host will kill the demon. That’s where the envy demon is different. They take the form of another being, but will flee when they feel they have been compromised unlike a demon, who will stay until it is cut off or the host is killed.” He didn’t sound very convincing.

“Solas . . .” Cassandra prompted, slight anger seeping through her vocal cords.

He sighed gently, glancing towards the back of Dorian’s head before averting his gaze to Ferron. “There are two possible explanations: The first being that someone knew this demon had infiltrated Skyhold and put an end to it before it could cause damage. The second scenario is that the demon saw a sketch or a portrait of Ferron, took the shape – which would explain the lack of markings and other, more private details – and when it felt it was going to be exposed, it destroyed the body and assumed another form.”

“That still doesn’t answer the question.” Dorian snapped, his hand closing into a tight fist. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the flex of the bindings.

Solas hesitated, “A normal demon must take the form of a being that already exists. The Inquisitor does not have an identical twin or anyone who looks so similar to him. This demon is creating a shape out of practically nothing, as far as we can tell. If it’s able to create a new form before the old one is destroyed . . . then killing its old form will not destroy it.”


	3. Remembrance Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little shorter and there is a part 2 :)

_“Personal, private, solitary pain is more terrifying than what anyone else can inflict.” - Jim Morrison_

 

Ferron was naked, standing in the middle of the room. The curtains were drawn shut, the room was illuminated by the hearth and various clusters of candles. Dorian had his lips on Ferron’s wrist. He was kissing the abraded marks from the restraints that were forced upon him earlier. “Dorian . . .” Ferron whispered, breaking the intimate silence they shared.

“Don’t speak, Amatus . . .” he had a heart breaking shake in his voice. He moved to the other wrist, tracing the raw marks with gentle kisses. Tears rimmed his eyes, and he continued to blink them away. He slid between Ferron’s arms, his lips moved to the star shaped scar that separated him from the imposter. An imposter that saved him from his own death.

“Dorian . . . please . . .” Ferron pleaded as he angled his head to brush his nose along Dorian’s cheek. He gently kissed the corner of his lips, trying to coax him to make eye contact. He felt a stray tear slip between the small space between their faces.

Dorian ignored him, but the flow of his tears increased. He kissed the front of Ferron’s neck, keeping his eyes on the undamaged flesh, trying desperately to replace the horrid memory of the man that stole Ferron’s face. His lips moved to the scar under Ferron’s eye. Dorian needed to commit every minor detail to memory. He felt like each little cut, scar, or bruise could be the factor that sentenced Ferron to death.

“ _Vhenan_ ,” Ferron tried again, his hands cupped Dorian’s cheeks. He didn’t force the mage to look at him, but he was silently willing him to. “I know you were scared . . . I understand . . . but please; we need to talk about this. . .” Ferron tried, but he couldn’t keep the tears from rolling down his cheeks and his voice was tight with controlled emotions.

Dorian glanced up at his face, but the memory replaced his features. He choked out a quiet sob as he pulled away from Ferron. Misguided anger coursed through him – it was easier to process through compared to the despair he felt. “No, Ferron. You _don’t_ understand. How could you _possibly_ comprehend what it feels like to think the one person you’ve ever loved is _dead_?! Every time I close my eyes, I’m _terrified_ that when I open them, this will all be some perverted dream and you’ll really be _gone_.” He began sobbing, still trying to speak through his tears, “ _I thought I’d lost you._ ”

His words were heart wrenching. Silent tears cascaded down Ferron’s cheeks. He took a step towards Dorian, catching him when his knees gave way. He lowered them to the floor, heeding every anguished cry that fell from his parted lips. Ferron pulled Dorian into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around him. Dorian clutched onto his arms as if his life depended on it, and at the moment, it felt like it did. “I’m here, Dorian . . .” the words became an unbroken chant, a reassuring litany that overcame Dorian’s tears.


	4. Ash

_“If they can get you asking the wrong questions, they don't have to worry about answers.” - Thomas Pynchon, Gravity's Rainbow_

 

“As long as _he is here_ , we are _all_ in danger.” Leliana snarled as she slammed her fist down on the war table. Only a few hours had passed, the event was still on everyone’s mind and many members of the Inquisition were panicked. Whatever this was, they needed to clean up the mess before rumors began to get worse.

“I agree – he is the demon’s target.” Cullen clutched onto the hilt of his sword, on edge and poised to attack at any second. When the word ‘demon’ was thrown into the possible theories, his skin prickled with the memories of his past.

Cassandra pushed angrily from the table and shook her head, “We are _always_ in danger. Here, at least, we can keep an eye on him. This demon cannot become him without altering him and his mind. I’m positive we would be aware if something such as that should transpire.” They had been arguing in circles for hours. “Throwing the Inquisitor in shackles will not sooth any one’s conscious.”

“We all saw the way Mr. Pavus looked at the Inquisitor when he realized he was not actually dead. If you were to barge in his quarters and chain him, Dorian will fight to keep him out of your clutches.” Morrigan added, crossing her arms over her chest.

“A man in Seheron once took out six spies to save his wounded wife. One of the craziest things I’ve ever seen; and I’ve seen a lot.” Bull added from the corner. Sera was standing quietly next to him, leaning into him for support. She had people die on her before, but Ferron was close to her – closer than anyone had been before.

Vivienne shifted quietly, “Darling, if this really is a demon – envy or no – there are a plethora of mages in Skyhold that are susceptible to possession. If we must keep an eye on anyone, it’s them; the Inquisitor and Dorian included.”

Cassandra scoffed, “There is no need to go to such lengths. We need to find the motivation of this demon!”

“We _need_ to keep watch on the immediate threat!” Leliana pushed.

“Ferron _isn’t_ a threat,” Cassandra retorted.

“That doesn’t stop the demon from making him one,” Cullen cut in.

Cassandra growled, tired of this endless arguing. “This demon was scared, the chances of it returning are slim.”

“That’s not entirely true, Seeker.” Solas corrected from the back of the room. He had a sketch book in his hand – it belonged to Ferron. “This is a very powerful Demon. Envy took his form without _becoming him_. I found a damaged sketch in Dorian’s study and compared it to the body and the face matches the sketch perfectly. Somehow this creature was able to take his form by simply viewing a drawing. It’s . . . _fascinating_.”

“Are you suggesting that this thing can change into someone by simply looking at them?” Josephine asked, finally breaking her silence. She wasn’t moving past the gruesome scene as quickly as the others. It was real at the moment, and despite knowing that Ferron was stolen away with Dorian in his quarters, she still couldn’t shake the feeling of death.

“Unfortunately, yes; it does not bode well for us-,”

“I’ve seen him drifting, dwelling within the planes of the Fade. A look of sadness, tears trickling down his face. He does not alter the shape – he ignores us. When the veil was crippled, he stopped coming.” Cole started, claiming the attention of those around him. “One day I saw him, a smile on his face, unusual. He dreamt the shape, a man who answered to Dorian – skin like silk, lips soft and kisses deep, heart fluttering, gentle whispers, writhing bodies – _more._ They were real _\- I need it_.” His voice dropped to a lower frequency, giving the last couple words a threatening undertone.

“Make it stop!” Sera screamed before she bolted out of the room.

“It’s _definitely_ an envy demon . . .” Vivienne sighed.

“Solas – make any sense of that?” Iron Bull scratched his arm, suddenly feeling like he was being watched.

Solas looked down and shook his head. He placed the opened sketch book on the table, showing the group a rough sketch of a long limbed figure that was shaded in darkly. “If Envy had been watching Ferron in the fade for a while, the chances of him seeing it are very high. This is the typical manifestation of an Envy demon – the shape it prefers to take. I’m assuming Ferron and Dorian find each other in the Fade when they sleep – and I know from experience that the anchor helps Ferron dream with more focus. He guided us to a recreation of Haven when we first came to Skyhold without even realizing he did so. With more focus and energy, the more demons and spirits are drawn to it. This ‘childhood follower’ could have stumbled upon him and used the Breach to come to the real world.”

“So this demon just wants someone to love?” Blackwall raised an eyebrow.

“No, not exactly. An Envy demon will see something it wants and will begin to crave it, obsess over it. It will have an undeniable urge to do anything and everything to get what it wants. A rough interpretation would be that this Demon either wants Ferron or Dorian. It is unclear for now.”

“That still leaves questions unanswered. Are Dorian and Ferron going to be under the threat of possession?” Cullen reverted back to his original concerns.

“It’s possible.”


	5. Remembrance Part 2

_“_ _You know what truly aches? Having so much inside you and not having the slightest clue of how to pour it out." - Karen Quan, Write Like No One Is Reading _

 

The room was completely quiet except for the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Ferron’s hips rocked furiously against Dorian. His teeth were clamped around the edge of a pillow that was tucked below his chest. The sheets were tangled around his elbows and knees, wearing down with each slid of his limbs.

Ferron’s eyes were clamped shut as he focused on the pleasure. The only noise that left him was the shallow breaths that pushed hard past his lips. Dorian continued his movements, but never closed his eyes or let himself fall completely into bliss. Ferron constricted around him subconsciously, causing Dorian’s nails to push into his hips. Ferron inhaled sharply through his teeth at the action.

Dorian pulled his hands back to the reddened cheeks of his bottom. His eyes took in the forming bruises on Ferron’s ribs, thighs, and on his back. He had crescent shaped scratches on the surface of the bruises. Any skin that didn’t contain bruising was covered in bite marks or red puckered scratches. All the marks that marred his skin were caused by Dorian; the very realization had clear liquid clouding his vision. “Am I hurting you?” he asked in a soft whisper, trying to keep the break in his voice to a minimum.

Ferron’s hand reached back to the side of Dorian’s hip, coaxing him to continue. He let out a gasped, “keep going.” He tightened around him once again, not wanting to put a stop to the mask of pleasure that dulled the physical pain. Every thrust came with a mix of pain and pleasure – Ferron was raw and aching inside. He felt a drop of wetness on his back, and he knew that Dorian was crying.

Moments later, Ferron pushed back against Dorian’s hips, chasing after the fading throb in his length. “Dorian . . .” he whispered gently as he lifted from the mattress and turned to look back at his lover.

“Why did you stop?” Dorian broke from his guilt spiral, pulling back into the moment. He looked down and pulled his hips back, slipping out of Ferron. “Did I-?” He was confused, suddenly unable to recall if he had or not - surely he wasn’t _that_ preoccupied to miss the grand event.

Ferron dropped his gaze before he turned to look at him. He stood on his knees, becoming level with Dorian. “ _Vhenan_ . . . you didn’t . . .” His hands gently pressed against Dorian’s chest, smoothing over the own set of scratches he left on the mage. Every breath that pushed through his body triggered the return of a dull throbbing to his system.

Dorian pulled away from his touch, embarrassed and angry with the situation. “I – Ferron -,” he growled and looked away from the elf. He couldn’t speak as another wave of remorse and guilt washed over him. He fought through the knot in his chest, removing the restriction he held tightly over his words, “Look at you, Ferron. I’m _hurting_ you; I can count the bruises that _I_ left on you. I’m coping with loosing you by harming you – and now I can’t even hide it all with the only other thing I can offer you.” His voice was rough. They had barely spoken more than six words to each other since the incident. Silence was easier.

“No Dorian – no – you’re _not_ hurting me, love . . .” He moved closer to Dorian, lowering his voice to a private whisper that was only meant for each other’s ears. “Dorian, seeing myself . . . like that . . . I could feel . . .” He exhaled, gathering himself as tears formed in his eyes, “When I see my reflection, it’s as if I’m staring at the corpse again. I can still smell death . . . I want to feel _alive_ . . . I want to feel _something_ other than this . . . _this._ ” His hands were on Dorian’s cheeks as a shaky breath expelled from his lungs. He didn’t care about Dorian’s inability to finish; that wasn't the most important issue.

They held their silence for a few moments. They knew that this vicious cycle of grief was a horrible thing to continue. It plagued both of them, and they were harboring the blame for something that wasn't their fault.  “I can’t keep hurting you . . . _we_ can’t keep going on like this.” He swallowed hard, pulling Ferron close to his chest. His fingertips grazed over the bruises on his back, attempting to sooth any lingering pain he felt. Dorian kissed his temple, allowing Ferron whatever space he needed to cope. Dorian felt like he couldn't shed another tear; but the moment Ferron's breath hitched and carried out a body shaking sob, Dorian could feel hot tears burn against his cheeks. Ferron cried into the crook of his neck, he was clutching onto Dorian’s back, afraid he might disappear from his grasp. “I’m sorry Amatus – _I’m so sorry_ . . .”


	6. Rose Water

_“First your parents, they give you your life, but then they try to give you their life.” - Chuck Palahniuk_

 

Dorian lurched forward, breath pushed hard past his lips. A bead of sweat dripped down his temple as his damp hair clung to his forehead. His hands smacked into a tree – the bark bit into his palms causing him to wince in pain. The scent was fading rapidly, stealing away the precious memories he had tried so hard to forget.

_“You’re going to marry a lovely girl of a great household, Dorian. I wish you would be more grateful for such a thing.” Halward scolded, placing a plate in front of him. Dorian pushed it away with defiance._

_“I don’t want to marry someone, father. Why can’t I find my own way?” He pushed his lips into a thin line as he crossed his arms over his chest._

_Slim fingers ruffled through his hair as a melodic laugh pushed through the air, “My rebellious son, we know how much you want to get out on your own – but this marriage has been set up since you were a small child. Besides, you have another year yet before you’re sixteen.”_

_“Oh good, another year full of being tossed between Circles.” Dorian rolled his eyes._

_Aquinea sat down next to her son at the table, glancing up at Halward lovingly. “Well, if you don’t keep trying to duel other students for ‘_ social experiments _’ we wouldn’t have to keep moving you.”_

_“Speaking of Circles, isn’t it time for you to head off?” His father chimed as he sat down across from them._

He picked up his pace, heart beating in his chest harder than it ever had before. “ _Mother!_ ” he cried out, trying to fight through the low hanging branches that only hindered his speed. He could see the back of her flowing black dress as it trailed behind her, somehow dodging all of the brush that scraped against his legs and clung to his clothes.

_“What in the Divine’s name were you doing, Dorian?!” Halward thundered, “You could have ruined us all! Everything we have tried to create for you!”_

_Dorian cringed in his chair, keeping his light grey eyes glued to the ground. His jaw clenched in aggravation as his fists tightened on his legs. “It wasn’t –!”_

_“Don’t speak,_ boy _!”_

_“Halward!” Aquinea cut in, silencing her husband. She smoothed her hands down on the front of her dress, an anxious habit that Dorian recognized. She crouched down, settling on her knees in front of him. Her warm hands covered his whitening knuckles as she tried to catch his gaze, “Dorian, son, what happened?” Clear tears rimmed her eyes._

_He hated to disappoint her, hated to see her cry. His fists relaxed under her touch as his eyes slowly lifted to her face, “I – I … was studying with a boy in my class and . . .” He wavered, terrified to continue._

_“Keep going, Dorian.” Halward spat._

_He recoiled, but his mother kept him steady, “Ignore him, son, take your time.”_

_Dorian nodded slowly before taking a deep breath, “W-we kissed . . . the First Enchanter saw . . .” He dropped his gaze, ready to feel the heat of his parents anger. “I_ like _men, mother . . . t-the same way I’m supposed to like w-women . . .”_

 _He was greeted with silence from his mother, and his father placed his hand over his head and shook it before he paced across the room. “Dorian, honey, this is just a phase. In a few months, you will be married and live out your life the way you were_ intended _to.”_

Dorian’s hand clamped around her thin wrist, halting her in her tracks. She stopped as the fog died out around her. Aquinea turned slowly, her long dark hair blew in the light breeze that had picked up around them. Leaves brushed past their feet, avoiding her dress entirely. She looked ethereal. He felt like a kid again, admiring the sheer beauty his mother possessed.

_“You’re fucking insane!” Dorian shouted, turning away from the bag he was stuffing full of all the clothes he had._

_“Don’t use that tone with me, Dorian!” Halward shouted, snatching an article of clothing from his hands and throwing it to the floor like a child._

_“He’s just trying to help, son, please listen to us.” His mother added, attempting to keep her voice down to defuse the situation between her husband and her son._

_“I don’t_ want _to listen,” Dorian zipped the bag shut and slung it over his shoulder, not caring what kind of clothes he had. He snatched the amulet his father gave him before all of this started from his dresser. He shoved it in his pocket. All he wanted to do was leave this wretched house. He pushed past them both, shoving harder against his father than he did his mother._

_“Dorian, please!” His mother pleaded as she clamped her hand around his shoulder and yanked him back towards them. He was half a head taller than her, but she still possessed the strength to pull him down to her face._

_“_ Blood magic _, mother. He tried to use blood magic on me, he tried to_ change _me . . .” His voice dropped to a broken whisper. Staring down at the face of his mother, he couldn’t be angry. She was able to break him down with one simple look; he hated when she cried._

_She looked him directly in the eyes, her voice unwavering, “It’s for the better.”_

Aquinea looked down at Dorian, her hand pressed against his cheek. He leaned into the touch, yearning for the same gentle affection she used to show him before he left. “I have something for you, darling.” Her other hand raised and the sound of cool metal sliding against skin rang out in the now silent air. 

A slight smile pulled at his lips. “I'd thought I lost it - I'm so glad you found it.” He reached for it, and before his fingers brushed along the chain, she yanked it out of his reach. He looked confused as he pulled away from her touch. 

“You've failed me, son.” A breeze swept through the area, sending chills through Dorian's being. Her long black strands of hair brushed over her shoulders, whipping in the accelerating breeze. “I don't want you to further stain the House Pavus name. The amulet is staying with your father and I.” Her voice was cold and unforgiving. “Your father was right – we should have altered you when we first found out.”

Dorian’s eyes opened wide in shock. He was horrified, pulling away from her touch. Her eyes were dark, her features were hauntingly foreboding. He began to stumble backwards, his breathing growing more rapid as he shook his head furiously. “You’re nothing but a disappointment – a mistake.” His heart dropped in his chest as tears poured from his eyes, his breath stuck in his throat as darkness began to suffocate him. “You are the son I _never_ wanted.”

 _“No!”_ Dorian sat up rapidly, his chest in a vice. Cold sweat clung to his skin as he looked around rapidly.

Ferron stirred following Dorian's sudden urgency, his eyes opened wide as he sat upwards. “Vhenan?  What's wrong, emma lath?” His hands rested gently on Dorian's shoulders.

Dorian placed his hand on his forehead, shutting his eyes tightly but reopening them when he saw the warped image of his mother flash across his mind. Ferron's arms were wrapped around his body, gently rocking him in an attempt at comfort. The smell of rose water lingered over Dorian's senses. It was a scent that coated his childhood memories, but now it burned in his nose.


	7. Fear

_“Fear doesn't shut you down; it wakes you up.” - Veronica Roth, Divergent_

 

The rumors began to trickle in, each one more outrageous and fear provoking than the last. The need for secrecy grew with each passing day but the more closed the inner circle got - the more agitated the people of Skyhold became. A fight had erupted in the Tavern on the first day after the incident.

“You been actin' weird lately, Morrow. There's been rumors floatin' around about a demon. You wouldn' be one of them, would you?” The veteran soldier reached for the dagger on his belt. He was cornering the young recruit and spitting accusations as he went. A small circle had formed around them.

“I don't know what you are talking about! Please Ash, can't you see it's still me?!" He was backed up against a wall, holding his hands out in mock surrender. Pure fear clouded his features. Morrow closed in on him. His dagger raised, coiled back like a snake poised for the kill.

Sera leaped down from the staircase and shoved through the crowd. She jumped onto Morrow's back, using her weight and momentum to wrestle him to the ground. Her hand closed around his wrist, holding it in place until she got him to the floor. She smacked his hand to the ground and it flattened against the hilt of the dagger. Bull pushed through the crowd and placed his foot on the blade. He slid it away from the Veteran's hand and let it glide along the wood behind him.

“You've seen enough - get gone!” Sera yelled to the crowd as she took her hand away from Morrow's head, halting the pressure she once caused to his skull. Once the crowd dispersed, Sera and Bull hoisted him to his feet and lugged him off to Cullen so he could give those under his command whatever punishment he saw fit. Cullen was fair when it came to reprimanding his men.

The second major incident occurred on the second day, and it involved Morrigan. An already jumpy Scout thought he heard her muttering some sort of blood curse outside his room. He chose to confront her on her way to the war room. He snuck behind her, pulled a dagger, and sliced it clean across the back of her arm.

“ _You foul creature!_ ” She spat as she swung around, reading a devastating fire spell that would have seared him alive. Leliana grabbed her wrist and yanked it out of the air, halting the spell and redirecting her attention. “Unhand me, Leliana!”

“Demon's don't bleed!” The Scout shouted. His eyes went to the cut on her arm, and when a thin line of red appeared, the dagger clanked against his stone. He fell onto his knees and began to apologize profusely.

Cullen ran into the hallway, his hands were poised to grab his sword and his eyes were tight with fear, “What in Maker's name is going on?!” He slowed when he saw the Scout on the floor and Morrigan holding her arm while glaring at Leliana.

“The issue is resolved. I will escort Frye back to his quarters.” Leliana spoke evenly.

“You are going to allow this man to live?” Morrigan fought back, glancing over at the Scout.

Leliana turned towards Morrigan, giving a glare that would give the witch a run for her money. “ _Yes_.”

Cullen coaxed the scout back onto his feet and handed him off to Leliana. He moved to Morrigan and pulled out some spare gauze he kept with him at all times. He offered it to her and she stared at him reluctantly before sighing and offering her arm to him. He wrapped it, catching a muttered “we need the Inquisitor to tame this madness.” Cullen dropped his eyes and nodded in agreement.

With each addition to the rumors came with its own fluctuation of violence within Skyhold. The Templars accused the Mages, the humans accused the Elves, the Dwarves blamed everyone else and the Orlesian's pouted while they sucked down savory meals and gossiped wildly, becoming the first stop in the rumor mill. The Companions were on high alert - and their first goal was not to be swept up in the madness.

Dorian and Ferron were still shut up in their quarters, having no contact with anyone except each other. It worried the other members, terrified that they were both under possession and planning to tear the Inquisition apart from the top down. It coaxed the inner circle to have someone check on them. No one really wanted to bother them, but the fear of what could happen drove Cullen to take up the mantle.

He knocked on the second door inside the small hallway to the Inquisitor’s room. It was locked up tight. He listened for stirring from the inside, and when he heard nothing, he knocked again – much louder than the first time. When the door opened, Cullen jumped in his own skin but he held his ground.

“ _What?_ ” Dorian said brusquely, holding the door slightly open so everything below his waist was covered. He was shirtless. Cullen noticed the numerous red puckered lines that slid across his upper body. He had bite marks all over his neck and his hair was messy. He looked exhausted.

Cullen dropped his gaze quickly before he stared back at Dorian’s face. “We- I was just checking to make sure that you were both alright,” He wrung out his hands, nervous about the curt tone Dorian held.

“Dorian?” Ferron questioned from within the bedroom. There was more movement inside before the Inquisitor appeared at the door. “Who is it – Cullen?” He peeked his head around Dorian’s shoulder. His physical state was the same as Dorian except there were dark circles under his eyes.

“Inquisitor,” he bowed his head gently, “what happened three days ago was . . . terrible. Since we haven’t heard from both of you – we were concerned.”

Ferron looked down and away from him before he slipped out of the doorway and descended back into the bedroom, completely ignoring him. Dorian swallowed hard and dropped his gaze, “We’re  _fine_  – please leave.” He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth silently. He shut the door in Cullen’s face. Cullen hadn’t even left the area before he heard yelling from within followed by a dead silence that made chills crawl up his spine. They were trapped in a vicious cycle, unable to break the shadow of grief that overcame them.

“Tell me what happened, Commander.” Leliana asked quietly. The inner circle met in the small library off of the kitchen area. Their trust had been restricted to each other, and even then, they questioned each other’s motivations without hesitation. The group needed to be assured they hadn’t been infiltrated by the demon that may or may not be within in their ranks.

Cullen shook his head gently, “I didn’t get as much out of them as I’d hoped. They were both disheveled: Dorian was very short and Ferron didn’t say anything directly to me.” He leaned back against one of the book shelves.

“I can’t work with that, Cullen.” Solas added, “Disheveled how?”

“Sex and sleep deprivation - and probably a lot of emotional  _expressions_.”

“That’s not really my area of expertise.”

“Then why are you here?” Vivienne pushed from the front of the tiny room.

“I’m sorry Vivienne, I hadn't noticed when you poured your vast knowledge into the subject.” He spoke sarcastically, tired and agitated with his fellow mage’s attitude.

“We are moving from the point,” Cassandra directed.

Within two minutes of her comment, the group erupted in arguments and accusations. The small room felt entirely cramped with all the noise. They were getting nowhere, and everyone didn’t feel like attempting to stop it. Everyone but Sera, who exploded from the middle of the crowd. “Everyone shut the frig up! We are getting nowhere with all this noise! Everyone is thinkin’ it but no one’s saying it: what if the dead Inquisitor is the  _real_  inquisitor?!”

A silent agreement hung between them. Their eyes glanced to each other, daring someone to speak first. Cassandra was the one brave enough, “Sera has a point.”

“Friggin right I do,” she nodded with pride.

“Don’t push it, darling.” Vivienne crossed her arms over her chest and leaned on her hip.

Sera stuck her tongue out at Vivienne who shook her head. Morrigan shifted her weight before she pushed her bangs from her eyes, “’Tis unfortunate that we cannot converse with them in person.” She raised an eyebrow, almost taunting the group.

“What are you suggesting, Morrigan?” Cullen took the bait.

She smirked gently, “They are mages, are they not? If this demon really could return to the Fade at will, it would most likely go back to watch the Inquisitor when he slept. Can’t we do the same?”

Solas understood, “That’s not a bad idea, Lady Morrigan. If they were possessed, they would manifest as such in the Fade. If one of us could locate him within the Fade, we could try to communicate.”

“Only one issue with that: Ferron has insomnia.” Bull added, mangling the plan before it got off the launch pad.

Cassandra’s brow furrowed, “What do you mean?”

Bull sighed, “You’ve never wondered why the fire stays lit all night? Never noticed the dark circles under his eyes? He’s only told Dorian voluntarily, everyone else, you have to ask or he won’t bring it up.”

“So our window of opportunity will be shorter than expected – unless we seek out Dorian.” Morrigan pushed.

“Crying, sex, and going without food will tire out even an Insomniac.” Cullen added.

“Unless fear is what keeps them awake.” Morrigan spoke slowly, carrying the words with an added weight. It was a risky idea, sneaking into someone’s dreams and trying to intervene. The Fade was a tricky place to navigate, even for experienced Mages. If Dorian were to loose himself, he could seriously hurt whoever goes in to find him. To be killed in the Fade would mean death in the physical world.


	8. Essence

_“I know a secret, and secrets breed paranoia.” - Simon Holt, The Devouring_

 

 

“ _Do you think the Inquisitor is really dead? I’ve heard he hasn’t left his room since they found his body. The Tevinter is in there with him.”_ The thoughts were constant, little bursts of intrusions that dashed through their mind. They could smell the paranoia in the air, feeding off of it like a drug; each hit compelled them to stay longer.

They moved to the main hall, easily dodging those close to the Inquisitor. Everyone else was too self-involved to notice the longing stares they let slip. Each being possessed something they didn’t have, some sign of life that they craved. The thoughts ran ramped, unleashed and bound by no restrictions. It was thrilling.

 _“I want to break his silence . . .”_ The elf sounded wary, too disinclined to mean the words he said. They knew the shadow of doubt he held; recognizing it like a long lost child. They lingered by the Inquisitor’s quarters, staying within the bounds of the main hall. They leaned against the wall and pulled out a report that they stole from the scout.

 _“He loves you, tell him about your nightmare. You don’t need to be afraid!”_ The human snapped, raw and angry. A smile pulled at their lips, satisfied that their plan had already been set in motion. They needed to make the wedge bigger, pry open the crack that was already forming between them. The thoughts were consumed with a foggy pleasure – the only coping mechanism the couple could conjure up. It was an attempt at trying to fill the fear based void that formed in their hearts.

“Hello, can I speak to you for a moment?” A young serving girl approached them. She had short blonde hair and her face was riddled with scars. Despite her wide, pure eyes, they sensed the tightly locked secrets that plagued her soul, stealing her innocence. She had seen more than she would ever let on.

“Of course,” they tested their voice, attempting to fill it with the pleasant emotion that would appear normal. They followed her, winding through the many doors in Skyhold towards the kitchen. She spoke in idle conversations, but they were more focused on her thoughts. She never once thought about the possible threat of a demon before they reached the spice heavy scent of the kitchen.

She grabbed a tray and began to place plates stocked full of food onto it. “I know this isn’t your usual run of the mill job, but I have a feeling they will be more responsive to a face they’ve seen before.” She glanced up at them, flashing a gentle smile. “Leliana suggested we try to bring some food to them . . . I mean what happened the other day . . . Ser Pavus was heartbroken, and it was obvious even if he didn’t shed a tear before they were alone . . . I heard them crying late into the night. Ferron is a wonderful man, one of the nicest Dalish I have ever met. Poor things.” She rambled on before lifting the tray and offering it to them.

“Yes, it seems to be quite difficult for them.” They agreed before taking the tray from her hands. They balanced it easily, careful not to spill. The perfect opportunity presented itself to them. Although, it shocked them that the inner circle did not complete this task – perhaps it was too trivial or they knew that all they would receive was a door in the face.

They walked up the stairs, moving quietly. When they reached the doors, the couple’s thoughts grew louder. They didn’t need them – their strained yells could be heard through the thin barricade. They balanced the tray against their chest and knocked their knuckles against the door. They waited patiently, listening into the silence that hung in the room.

The door opened slowly, revealing the elf. “Cullen please – _oh_. What do you need?” His tone lightened, his thoughts slow and quiet. His eyes were distant and his body was covered in a thin layer of sweat, but he was wearing a baggy shirt that belonged to the human.

They pushed a smile onto their lips, “I was asked to bring you something to eat. They are all _very_ worried about you.” They displayed the food to him through the crack of the door.

“Alright – yes – we could use something to eat. Thank you. Please, come in and just put it on the desk. It’s – _cleared_.” He stepped away from the door and opened it wider. They stepped through. The room was dark, the only light that came through was from the crack in the curtains. Sex permeated the air, but it didn’t bother them. They noticed the human, who was dead asleep in the bed, covered by the thick blanket and hardly moving except for the slow up and down of his side.

Ferron shut the door behind them.


	9. Castle

_“If you wanna break these walls down, you're gonna get bruised.” -Halsey, Castle_

 

“Inquisitor!” Solas called through the Fade, his voice echoed eerily around him. A young Wisp hovered behind him, following him curiously. He had encountered it before, and enjoyed its company when he explored the unknown lands of his favorite place to be. He could feel the Anchor’s energy surge through the area as he drew closer; it was a familiar pull.

Solas was surprised when his bare feet pressed against damp grass. It brushed along his feet, welcoming him. He stepped through a light boundary of fog before observing the breath taking beauty of the manifestation before him. It was a clearing, small enough to feel private and intimate, but large enough to feel free. There wasn’t a cloud in the manipulated sky. Birds chirped in the distance; they did not compromise the peace.

He spotted the Inquisitor and Dorian in the center of the field, on their feet and tangled in each other’s arms. Ferron had his head tucked into Dorian’s neck and Dorian had his head tilted down against Ferron’s cheek. They were whispering to each other, low and unhurried. Solas could hear the conversation, and he felt as if he was intruding. The wisp circled around his head when he stopped in his tracks to give them some time.

“You were right to leave, Dorian. No one should be forced into something that will compromise the way they wish to live their life.”

“I know, Amatus . . . but disappointing my mother was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. My father – I suppose he felt some sort of affection for me at one point in my life – but my mother never gave up on loving me until the day I walked out. To hear it out loud . . . it was surreal and terrifying.”

“Everything that has been happening lately is terrifying.”

“You have a fair point,” he chuckled lightly, a sound he wouldn’t dare make in the real world at the current time. They were silent for a few moments before Dorian’s arms dropped as a low sigh pushed past his lips. Ferron had woken up, promptly disappearing from the Fade.

Solas stepped forward, announcing his presence with a simple nod of his head. Dorian glanced over at him before turning away. “If you’ve come to lecture me about Demons and various other things – I don’t wish to hear it.” He shook his head angrily as a frustrated growl rumbled in his throat. “I’m surprised all of you haven’t broken down our door and clapped us in irons.”

“We were considering it, but the majority thought you would put up a fight. We chose to pick our battles more wisely.” He remained in place, not wanting to advance on the unstable mage. The Fade drew on emotion and energies – anger and fear are a deadly combination and Dorian harbored both.

Dorian paused, “So you thought finding us in the Fade would be more _reasonable_?” He sounded offended, the once long grass that swayed in the manifested breeze began to shrivel up and loose its color. It crunched beneath Dorian as he shifted his weight to face Solas head on.

The wisp paused its endless circling and hovering over Solas’ shoulder. Solas noticed how the environment was changing around him, matching the way Dorian felt. “It was the only way you would see one of us. We know what the Demon wants.” He spoke slowly, trying not to further upset Dorian.

Dorian’s eyes glanced towards the ball of light. His head tilted slightly, “I don’t care what it _wants_ ; I _care_ about killing it. While it is alive, Ferron isn’t safe.”

“That’s the part you may not enjoy.” Solas could feel a cold breeze sweep through his clothes. The sunlight that once warmed the area was shrouded by a heavy layer of grey clouds. The wisp lowered to Solas’ hip, becoming aware and afraid of the shift in energies. The once serene clearing turned to an unwelcoming place.

Dorian knew the environment was changing. He had intended it to. If Ferron somehow fell back asleep, Dorian didn’t want him around Solas. He still didn’t know what his fellow mage had planned. He could easily spring a trap for the Inquisitor in the Fade. The Anchor would make things easier to do so. “I’m willing to try anything.”

“I need you to calm down first, Dorian. I am not here to capture Ferron; I’m here to offer you a solution to your problem that the others may not approve of.” Solas pressed, and the words instantly soothed Dorian’s fears. The environment began to warp into the Rotunda of Skyhold, placing them in the safety of Solas’ quarters.

“Tell me, Solas.” He spotted the wisp and how it raised back above Solas’ head. The constant circling was agitating, but he wasn’t going to complain about it. Dorian moved across the room, slowly sitting himself down on Solas’ couch. He kept his eyes on the bald elf, trying not to let his thoughts wander to Ferron.

Solas easily manipulated the Fade, bringing in a few of Ferron’s sketchbooks and his own notes and research. The wisp moved close to the notes, examining them. “We assume this is a Demon of Envy, one that wishes to become the Inquisitor by going through you. I’ve been doing extra research on this type of demon, and I’ve devised a plan that will destroy it at its source. However, the plan holds risks . . .”

“What kind of risks?” Dorian pushed, leaning forward on the couch. His eyes were intent and eager – destroying this demon is all he wished to do. When Ferron was recovering or sleeping, Dorian would take the time to exhaust every book in his mini library on Demons or anything related to the Fade. When he learned nothing new, he was deciding on whether or not to consult demons in the Fade. Ferron would kill him for even risking it, but Dorian was dead set on ending this madness before it had a chance to get any worse.

“I can send you to a part of the Fade where Envy will most likely be. I will put you in a state where the Demon can easily create an environment that will manipulate your conscious into thinking everything it offers is real. If you manage to break the illusion, your opportunity to destroy the Demon will be small but present.” He paused before looking at Dorian, “If you don’t break the illusion in time . . . the Demon will trap you there.”

Dorian spoke without hesitation, “Will Ferron be safe if I do succeed?”

“Yes – in theory, he will be safe either way. Trapping you should sate Envy’s curiosity long enough for it to move on, or us to devise a plan to destroy it.”

Dorian let his eyes wander for a second, quickly thinking over the risks. The pause was only a beat long. His intense gaze landed on Solas, “do it.”


	10. Temptation

_“There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable.” - Mark Twain_

 

“Welcome home!” A familiar voice echoed down the hall. He heard footsteps, then a strong body smacked against his chest and sunk into his arms. Without thinking, Dorian tilted his head down and captures the man’s lips. The man pulled away, displaying a mock frown, “You’re late, Dorian.”

“I apologize, Laven, you know how those Magisters ramble. I’m happy they are finally on board with my proposal.” Dorian smiled wildly, drinking in the handsome features of his fiancé.

Surprise and excitement crossed onto Laven’s features. “Oh! You finally convinced them – _haha_ – I knew you would _Amatus_!” He hugged Dorian tightly, “This is wonderful news! Your parents will be thrilled – well – hopefully not as thrilled as when we tell them about the engagement.”

Dorian kissed his forehead before slipping from his arms and heading for the bedroom to change clothes. Laven followed him closely. “There is nothing to worry about – my parents love you.” Dorian reassured him, but the words suddenly felt hollow against his lips. Dorian’s hand went to his chest – feeling for his amulet. It was gone and he didn’t know why that suddenly bothered him. It never had before.

“I know – I did ask for your father’s blessing, but I don’t think he assumed I would go through with it.” Laven spoke nervously as he leaned against the door frame. He watched Dorian with soft brown eyes.

“Why do you say that?” Dorian asked absentmindedly. He began to slowly search through his fine and luxurious clothing. He heard the gentle hum of Laven’s voice, but the content didn’t register. He wasn’t paying attention and didn’t notice he had cut him off until the words already escaped his mouth, “Where is my amulet?”

Laven looked slightly hurt that his fiancé wasn’t listening to him. “W-what do you mean? You don’t have an amulet.” He stepped into the room, joining Dorian’s side.

“It was from my father – the Pavus house amulet.” He spoke in disbelief as his hand moved to the next drawer. He opened it and ruffled through, anger coursed onto his face. He knew he had it. He could see it clearly in his mind.

The young male let a small smile onto his face. He slipped underneath Dorian’s arms and pressed against his chest. “Your father still has the amulet.” His lips brushed against Dorian’s, tempting him. “You know - we still have time until your parents arrive – I bet I could finish you off with time to spare.” Laven spoke in a sultry growl – and within minutes he was pushing Dorian back and sinking onto his knees in front of him.

Dorian stumbled back to the bed – sitting when his knees hit the end. Laven already had Dorian’s pants off. His lips were around Dorian, expertly licking and sucking on his length. A heavy fog gripped Dorian’s mind. Everything seemed to blur together, moving quickly and incoherently. When Dorian came back from the deep, Laven was under him, rocking hard against his rolling hips that seemed to move automatically.

Despite the intense build up in his abdomen, Dorian felt out of place. He was caught off guard when there was no push for intimacy between them. Dorian couldn’t believe how silent Laven was – which is something he never noticed before. There was no needy grasping, clawing, biting or growling that felt so essential to Dorian. It was lifeless.

"Ferron..." The name caressed his lips. It felt as natural as breathing. The man under him didn't hold that name, but he didn't seem to notice Dorian's low gasp. The once intense pleasure that coursed through him turned to pain. There was a flash of white hot light behind his tightly closed eyes before a hazy memory began to unfold.

A pair of lifeless eyes stared back at him. The face was unfamiliar at first, but as the memory continued to play, his heart began to ache. He yearned to pull the motionless body into his arms and cry until his vocal cords burned. The smell of blood seized his senses and stuck to him as if he was bathing in it. “ _Stay with me_ . . .” Laven whispered above the nightmare. His body tensed as a sharp gasp pushed through his teeth. He ripped away from the stranger he was inside of.

Dorian felt a crushing weight in his body, bearing down on him like nothing he had ever felt before. He was hunched over on the ground unable to move. Rapid breaths pushed past his clenched teeth, his lungs felt like they were going to collapse. Laven watched with a slight frown, changing from the body of human male into the manifestation of a desire demon. “All you had to do was _let go_ , Dorian.” She purred before standing from the bed.

His eyes moved towards her, but his head started pounding. Cold claws wrapped around his chin and yanked his face upwards. Dorian felt pain surge through his neck and back. She tilted her head gently, “Perhaps my offer wasn’t clear enough.” She tapped her fingers against his jaw.

He tried to pull away, but the attempt was feeble. “I don’t want _anything_ from you, bitch!” He snapped, ignoring the harrowing restrictions of his vocal cords. She stared into his eyes before pulling her brows together in sympathy. Her claws uncurled from his jaw as she straightened.

“You’re right – you won’t take anything from _me_ . . .” she began to circle him, moving from his field of vision. Her fingers dragged along his shoulder, freezing the skin underneath her touch. He could feel the air shift behind him as she morphed once again. Her touch turned warm along his neck. “You _will_ take something from me, however.” Dorian’s eyes widened. The voice belonged to Ferron, and when she circled back in front of him, Dorian wanted to cry.

“You perverted-!”

“Quiet, _my sweet_ ,” she cooed in _his_ voice. She caressed his cheek, catching a stray tear that escaped Dorian. “You admire this form – more than you have ever admired anything before. His face provides you with safety, his body and voice you lust after – and his character is the only thing you’ve ever loved that hasn’t viewed you as a disappointment . . . sad really-,”

“Get to the point, Envy-,” He snarled, trying his best to display only anger. He couldn’t let this demon see his true colors any more than she already had. Any slip up of information could let her figure out his biggest fears and wants – she wouldn’t hesitate to exploit them more than she already had.

“ _Envy_?” She let out a joyous laugh as she sat back down on the bed. She crossed her legs at the knee and leaned forward, shifting back into her true form as she did so. “My name is Essence, and I am certainly not one of those spineless pricks.” She tilted her head gently before she pressed her foot under his chin and lifted his face towards her.

Dorian tried to pull away but the curse she had him under only caused more pain. He knew she held him under blood magic. No matter how hard he struggled to fight against it, she continued to hold fast. She was silent, toying with him, dragging him through a silent agony.

She gave him a sly smile, “You can have your old life back, Dorian. The approval of your mother and father – remember how he beamed with pride whenever you spoke or how she always sang to you when you were sad . . . imagine that Felix never died, Alexius never descended into madness . . . all you have to do is forget about the Inquisitor.” She stood, moving her hand up and towards her.

He growled lowly as he felt his body move, being forced to stand on his feet. He wanted to fight it, but the blood that almost boiled in his system didn’t provide much options for him. He walked forward without his own consent. She was mere inches from him, and when she leaned into his body, she forced his head downwards to look at her.

When her lips brushed along his chin, she had changed back into Ferron. She used his voice, mimicking the seductive whisper that Ferron used so often, “Give me your memories of him . . . all the details . . . the way his face lights up when he smiles – the echo of his laugh – the way his hands roam over your body so skillfully . . .” She purred as her hands curled into his hair, captivating his basic instinct to touch the man he loves.

Dorian had control of his body once again, and instead of running or destroying her, his hands pressed against Ferron’s bare skin. His nose ran along the curve of Ferron’s cheek. He was falling into the sensation of their skin being pressed together. His senses were heightened. The smell and the taste of Ferron intoxicated him. His teeth were against Dorian’s ear, there was a low whisper in his throat, “give it all to me in return for your past.”

His eyes snapped open. His hands curled tightly around her hips as fire burned on his fingertips. He shoved her backwards, throwing her onto the floor with a snarled, “ _never_.”


	11. Missing

_"As I look back at the past together with [him], suddenly [he] starts to disappear. Maybe [he] never really existed." -Halsey, Ghost Music Video_

 

_“Come back to me . . .”_

He sat up abruptly, catching his breath with a sharp gasp. The air stung his lungs and his head throbbed behind his eyes. He groaned lowly from the pain as he hunched forward. His head was cradled in his hand. The sudden assault of the light on his pupils intensified his headache. It hurt to move.

Dorian paused for a few moments, allowing his body to dull the pain into an annoying ache. He slowly opened his eyes, adjusting to the light. The last time he felt like this was the night after Halamshiral; Ferron had to practically wrestle the bottle from him. He hated being homesick. What confused him, however, was the knowledge that he hadn’t drank in two weeks.

His hand curled over the sheets, finding comfort against the silk. He looked around, taking in the familiar details of Ferron’s room. The only thing missing was the man himself. A wave of worry washed over him. It propelled him to his feet. When the covers left his body, he noticed the soft cotton tunic and pants that he wore – he simply assumed he had dressed sometime during the night.

When he entered the main hall, an older servant from Val Royeaux stopped him. “ _Monsieur_ Pavus, you shouldn’t be out of bed – at least not until a doctor examines your head.” She smiled as she pushed to her toes and reached for the side of his head.

“What do you mean?” he asked in surprise, unaware about any head injury. He didn’t know who this woman was, but he felt comfortable around her. He didn’t pull away when she reached for him.

Her fingers pushed through his hair and pressed against his scalp. “You slipped in Emprise Du Lion and hit your head. Inquisitor Lavellan put you in his quarters to avoid unnecessary visitors. He slept in your room. You’ve been out for a few days, my boy, but the bump seems to have settled.” She pulled away, holding her kind smile.

“Right . . .” he nodded slowly, trying to process her words and match them up with what he remembered. If Ferron felt he would hinder Dorian’s healing process, he would have avoided being around him at all costs. He wouldn’t want to be the one to make things harder on Dorian. “Where is the Inquisitor?” Dorian was excited to see his lover once again.

“Hmm . . . I believe he was speaking to Solas the last time I saw him. He will be happy to know you are alright. You gave him quite a scare.” She laughed gently before turning on her heel and returning to her business around the hall.

Dorian no longer felt any pain, which was a positive, but everyone kept telling him that he shouldn’t be up and about. It was beginning to gnaw on his nerves. He was happy when Solas gave him nothing but a warm “Welcome back, how are you feeling?” He lifted his eyes from his notes only briefly.

“I’m not quite sure, everyone keeps insisting I should be on bed rest. Perhaps they know something I don’t.” He chuckled gently, “you wouldn’t know where Ferron is, would you?” He was becoming antsy, eager to reconcile with Ferron and get over the fear that no longer permeated the air. He didn’t know how long he was out.

Solas took his attention entirely from his notes. He stared at Dorian with surprise, there was slight knowing in his eyes but it was quickly erased by a small glance downwards to the floor. “I don’t know anyone by the name of Ferron . . .” He looked apologetic, but never met Dorian’s eyes.

Dorian wavered, feeling weak in the knees. His stomach churned as he pivoted away from Solas and raced towards the stairs. He took two steps at a time, his heart pounded in his chest as stray thoughts flew through his mind, deepening the panic that gripped him. He almost crashed into the bookcase, having too much momentum to control.

His hands roughly searched through the books, running over the spines and tossing books that he didn’t recognize. At the very end of the bottom shelf was the _Malefica Imperio_ , a book that held nothing but a thinly veiled slander of Tevinter. The only reason Dorian kept it was because Ferron had managed to turn it into something positive.

Dorian took it from the shelf and flipped to the back page. He was praying that it was still there, the very first gift that Ferron ever gave him. The page was empty, blank and white, untarnished. No longer did it hold the skilled sketch of him and the man he loved. In a surge of denial, he thumbed through every page, willing it to be nothing but a slight mix-up in his mind one where the drawing was located.

“Who is Inquisitor Lavellan?!” Dorian called down to whoever would listen, namely Solas. He dropped the book and went to the railing, staring down at the elf. “Do you know where he is?”

Solas looked up at Dorian, a somber expression on his face, “I directed him to the war room. The Inquisitor’s name is Revix.”

Seconds later Dorian was shoving open the doors of the war room. Tears stung in his eyes as anger clouded his features. He knew who Revix was – Ferron spoke of him often and the two even corresponded through letters when Ferron insisted that Dorian meet his family somehow. “Where is Ferron?” He spat through gritted teeth.

Cullen switched to high alert, Josephine looked up from her clipboard and Leliana looked surprised by Dorian’s display. Revix turned towards him, shock and disbelief on his features. “How do you know that name?” He questioned roughly.

Dorian was losing control of himself, he was tired of the questions that kept shooting back at him. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now. “Ferron Pryce Lavellan – the _real_ Inquisitor. The man who I _fuck_ – the man who I _love –_ the _one_ person in this _fucking_ world that actually _means something_ to me. _Where is your brother?_ ”

Revix snarled, his ears flattened against his skull as he ripped across the room. His forearm slammed against Dorian’s chest, and with a surprising amount of strength, he shoved Dorian into the closed door. He bared his teeth, speaking harshly, “Shut your fucking mouth!” His elbow dug into Dorian’s collar bone, holding him still and causing him pain at the same time.

“ _Inquisitor!”_

Dorian held his ground, staring daggers into Revix’s eyes. “Where is he?!” He demanded, heat rose in his fingertips. He could feel the learned restraint he held over his magic slipping with each second. Revix looked painfully familiar to the man that no one seemed to know about. Something was wrong, but Dorian was too overcome to put it all together.

Despite the burning anger in Revix’s green eyes, he looked hurt. The words were low and quick, as if they physically pained him to drag out the phrases, “ _Ferron is dead_. He died two months before the Breech. He fell prey to Demons and the clan had to cut him down.”

The words shot through Dorian. His worst fear was presenting itself – it was the very thing he was trying to prevent. “ _No_ ,” was all he could push out. Revix slipped away from him, turning his back and trying to regain himself. Dorian shook his head furiously, “I was with him not four hours ago – he was sleeping next to me – he kissed me – he was _alive_ – we were in the Fade together- . . . and then the . . .” the pounding behind his eyes returned. The memories were slipping, dissipating before his very eyes. He couldn’t remember what Ferron looked like – couldn’t recall his voice or laugh – the taste and smell of him – all fading away as if they never existed. “I – I _saw_ him!” He insisted, trying to convince himself that it was true.

Revix heard enough. He turned to face Dorian before muttering, “You are one _sick bastard_ , Dorian Pavus.” His arm reared back as his clenched fist leveled with Dorian’s jaw. Cullen sped across the room, trying to hold back the Inquisitor. Dorian stumbled back against the door, not even noticing the intended hurt that was only two inches from his jaw when everything halted in place. His eyes lifted from his hands, examining the room for what felt like the first time.

_“Come back to me . . .”_

There she sat on the war table, her legs crossed and a flirtatious smirk raised sharply on the corner of her lips. “Did you really think you could be rid of me _oh-so_ easily?”


	12. Descent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize this took so long to post! Anyways, here you go and I didn't really edit the ending so yeah. I'll do that later. Anyways, I hope you continue to enjoy! :D

_"Your nightmares follow you like a shadow, forever." -Aleksander Hemon, The Lazarus Project_

 

“ _Dorian!_ ”

He ran, headed nowhere but away from the demon that called herself Essence. Ferron’s voice cried out behind him. His tone broke with fear, shattering Dorian’s heart with each cursed scream. Every cell in his body told him to turn around and save his lover, but he had to keep running – had to keep reminding himself that this was the Fade. Anything was possible and nothing was real.

“ _Amatus_ . . .” he heard his voice groan to the left of him. Dorian halted, curiosity overcoming him, his body was once again no longer his. He saw the silhouette of the luscious bed in Ferron’s room through the gradually lifting fog. He moved to the side of the bed, completely unable to turn away.

As the memory unfolded, his jaw slowly dropped and horror crossed onto his face. There he was, laying on the bed with Ferron on top of him, riding him. Ferron was arched backwards, relishing in every jolt of pleasure. Dorian’s hands pushed up his chest, curling into claws and pressing his nails into Ferron’s pecs. The Inquisitor moaned loudly and deepened his rhythm at the action.

As Dorian drew closer, he noticed an alteration in the memory. He saw deep red lines appear on Ferron’s torso as the image of him dragged his nails down his body. Ferron whimpered as tears swelled in his eyes. “ _Vhenan_ . . .” he whispered a small plea. Seconds later, Dorian was digging his nails into Ferron’s bared ribs. Blood began to streak down his sides, showing brightly against his pale skin. “ _You’re hurting me, Dorian_ . . .” Ferron gasped, gripping his wrists and attempting to pull his hands from his sides.

“Stop it!” Dorian screamed at the imposter. Ferron was yelling, trying to pull away. He was pushing, scratching, and hitting Dorian, desperately trying to stop the blood that was now staining the sheets around them. Ferron had his hand pressed hard against Dorian’s cheek, trying to suffocate him into the sheets. Dorian’s fingers unhinged from his sides, revealing the deep gashes he left on Ferron’s ribs. He sat up rapidly, curling his bloodied fingers around Ferron’s hair as he yanked him against the mattress. Ferron yelped in pain.

Fire tore through Dorian, shooting from his arms and hurling into the sadistic copy of himself. The vision evaporated as the fire passed through it, leaving nothing but an echoed cry for help. Dorian stumbled backwards. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to block out the scene. It continued to play behind his lids, he couldn’t stop it.

There was a sharp sting on the back of his neck. He whipped around, horrified at what warped image would present itself next. “ _You were always so stubborn_ ,” his mother chastised as she glared down at him. He felt like a child – no, he was a child. A young 16 year old who felt nothing but a crushing numbness. He felt out of place, and the image of his mother was hollow.

“ _Nothing bad happened, son. You’re all better now._ ” His father materialized, his once angry presence was dulled. There was a smile on his face, one of contentment and pride. They seemed to tower over him, casting long shadows and leaving him in the dark. He hugged his wife close to his side. They beamed at each other before laughing softly.

“W-what?” Dorian stammered, feeling helpless. What did they mean he was _fixed_?

“ _It’s alright, Dorian. You will be married within the month_ -,” She reached for him, attempting to ruffle his hairs as she always did. The tips of her fingers were stained with the same crimson that was dripping from Ferron not moments ago.

“No!” Dorian snarled, the numbness flared to pain as more fire tore through him and ripped into the vision. They were gone in an instant. Dorian stumbled backwards, unable to wrap his mind around what was unfolding before his very eyes. He was losing himself, unable to decipher what actually happened and what was nothing more than a sick twist of the Fade.

“Oh Dorian . . .” her voice was like nails on a chalkboard. She was standing not ten feet away from him. “Come back to bed, darling . . .” she cooed as darkness began to surround her. It grew across the white, clawing its way towards Dorian in an attempt to consume him.

He spun around and began to race away but she managed to twist his legs under him, tripping him to all fours. He gasped as sharp glass bit into his palms. He quickly removed them from the ground and brushed off the shards, his eyes were frantically searching the area. He couldn’t get back on his feet, his voice stuck thick in his throat.

A blood curtailing shriek sliced through the silence. His ears felt like they were bleeding. The scream was followed with a sinister chuckle that danced around the area, and he knew exactly where it originated from. Not seconds later, all fell silent except for the sound of his breathing.

He lifted his eyes, gingerly glancing around the area in search of her. She was gone, _had she given up_? He felt like his legs were filled with led and he was unable to stand. His mind was racing, unraveling inside his head. “Dorian!” Ferron cried, pure concern in his vocal cords. Tears welled in Dorian’s eyes as he looked over the man he loved, the man who was used to torment him for what felt like years.

He suddenly curled his fingers against his skull, fisting his dark hair and shoving the strands between his whitening knuckles. He leaned forward, curling into himself as a scream ripped from his vocal cords and pierced the silence that plagued him. He gritted his jaw, baring his teeth like fangs to the ground. A heart wrenching sob pushed through him, leaving nothing but a breathless tremble in its wake.

“Leave. Me. Be!” Dorian snarled as he lunged towards Ferron with his hand outstretched. Pure energy surged through him as his hand pressed against Ferron’s stomach. The dark magic shot through his hand. Dorian hadn’t noticed that Ferron was completely solid until it was too late. There was a bright flash and Ferron was shoved backwards as a loud yelp echoed through Dorian, yanking him back to reality.

He shot upwards in the bed, his eyes wide and focused directly on the Inquisitor, just in time to watch as he slammed up against the wall and slumped to the ground. He curled into himself as pain coursed through him. It felt like something was tearing him apart from the inside out. “Ferron!” He cried as he flew out of the bed and dropped to his knees.

“Vhenan . . .” he gasped as his hand covered his stomach. His tear clouded eyes moved towards Dorian. He knew exactly what Dorian had unintentionally inflicted him with, and he knew that it could explode at any moment if Dorian’s control on it wavered in the slightest. It would trigger a bomb that would implode within him, killing them both if Dorian remained in the proximity.

Ferron swallowed hard as his hand shoved into Dorian’s chest, pushing him away. “ _Go_! Get help . . .” His voice broke and quieted, the constant spirit pain was too much to bear. Dorian was shaking, completely shocked at what he had done. He got to his feet, slowly stumbling backwards before racing out of the room to find help. This was the reality he had been vying for. The demon had tricked him into doing her bidding, and now Ferron was going to pay the price.


	13. Help

_“The marks humans leave are too often scars.” - John Green, The Fault In Our Stars_

 

“Solas!” Dorian cried, his foot stepping over the threshold of the Inquisitor's bedroom. His heart was hammering in his chest, tears burned in his eyes and fear gripped his entire body. He hadn't noticed what was in front of him until two strong hands clamped around his shoulders and spun him. He could feel bindings snake around his wrists. Cullen had to take precautions.

“You should not stray far from the Inquisitor.” Solas moved next to Cullen's side then around to face Dorian, his hands were clasped together behind his back. “I felt a disturbance in the Fade. A distress call.” He spoke easily, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. He acted as if nothing was wrong. Dorian attempted to stay calm, but his anxiety was bubbling over, keeping his muscles from relaxing. He wanted to force Solas to see the dire situation he left Ferron in. Cullen strengthened his grip when Dorian squirmed, Solas simply raised his hand to Dorian and continued to keep his steady tone. “We have to take precautions. You are unstable and have toiled with demons. I am unsure what you are currently capable of.”

Dorian shifted, but he understood. Not two seconds later, Cassandra joined them. “What's going on?” she questioned harshly, but there was concern on her face. She glanced at Dorian, but her eyes did not linger.

“I will explain everything, however, I need you to find Vivienne. We don't have much time. Have Blackwall keep watch and make sure no one enters except those who I have named.” He paused, reaching for the door knob before looking back at Cassandra, “Bring Cole. If the demon should show itself, now would be the opportune time.” When he unlatched the door, a piercing scream echoed around the great hall. It captured everyone's attention.

Dorian recognized it immediately. It took him back to the horrible encounter in the Fade. Instinct kicked in. Adrenaline pushed through his system as he began to fight Cullen - for his freedom. The rope cut into his wrists but he was too numb to care about his own pain. “Ferron!” he screamed, his voice hoarse and broken. He could feel the fire burn in his body, but he fought to keep control of it.

He was thrashing, kicking and yanking wildly. Cassandra had joined Cullen, attempting to hold him steady. Solas had disappeared into the hall of the room. Dorian would not be denied entrance. This was his mess. That was his Amatus. Ferron needed him - no. Dorian needed Ferron, more than he had ever cared to admit.

With a burst of strength, Dorian managed to twist and rip away from them. He snapped the bindings, burning them against his skin. He raced up the stairs, his heart pounding in his chest. They chased him, calling his name. When he entered the room, he saw that Solas was crouched over Ferron. He paused, evaluating the situation.

“Move,” he gasped, breathless. He swept across the room, narrowly avoiding Cullen's grasp. He pushed past Solas, and Solas did nothing but give him the space he needed to without actually leaving Ferron. Dorian fell to his knees, crawling to position himself to the side of Ferron. “Amatus,” he whispered. His hand brushed along Ferron's cheek.

Ferron cringed away before leaning into Dorian's caress. He was ghostly pale, his skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat. His breathing was rapid and shallow, his eyes were tightly closed and his jaw was gritted in obvious pain. He looked as if he was fighting off death, and it looked like a loosing battle.

“Remove his shirt and lay him down,” Solas spoke gently. His eyes were intent on Dorian. Solas knew that Dorian would be the only one permitted to touch or move Ferron. They had a secure trust in one another that could be seen in the Fade if one knew how to look. The demon knew this, and Solas only knew three ways to cause the visible bond to disappear, shutting it off to the demon. However, they were very dangerous to attempt. Solas also knew that the only way Dorian would stay calm was if he was near his lover - and the same went for Ferron.

Dorian nodded, he moved himself so his back was against the wall next to Ferron. “Hold on, Ferron . . . fight this . . .” he whispered as he gently guided Ferron into his lap. After some adjustments, he made it so Ferron's head was in his lap and his back was against the ground. Dorian reached over and unbuttoned his shirt, moving with a surprisingly steady palm. When it was completely unbuttoned, he opened the front of it enough so Solas had access to the wound. He didn't want to hassle Ferron to remove it all the way.

Solas shifted next to Ferron, sitting on his knees. He held out a hand above Ferron's stomach. “May I?” he asked Dorian with a sincere promise to cause no pain that was avoidable in his tone. Dorian nodded gently, not removing his gaze from the deep blue bruise that was spreading over his skin. It originated right next to his bellybutton, the place where Dorian planted the bomb. Solas lowered his hand, light blue - almost white - energy swirled around his fingertips in slow, calming circles. When he touched Ferron's skin, Ferron winced as his stomach tightened under his hand.

Dorian's jaw flexed, apprehension gripped him. He still held fast on the spell, attempting to prolong its detonation. Ferron's breathing calmed as Solas attempted to heal the spirit damage that was constantly being inflicted by the bomb. Solas took a deep breath through his nose. He had noticed Cullen’s brooding presence that shadowed them – a safety precaution. Solas knew it had to be attempted. His hand pressed harder on the entry point. The calming light shifted to a bright orange. The swirls became jagged bolts, sparking between their skin and jabbing into Ferron’s skin.

Dorian felt the shift of energy but he was immediately distracted by the broken scream that poured in the silence. Ferron’s arm shot upwards. His hand gripped the front of Dorian’s shirt in a tight fist. His other hand grabbed Solas’ elbow. He shoved it, attempting to break his arm – anything to stop the pain. Dorian gripped Ferron’s wrist. He pulled it backwards towards his chest. He quickly entwined their fingers, gritting his jaw when Ferron attempted to crush his hand. Cullen had little time to react. The space was too small to interfere without causing additional harm.

“What are you doing?! You’re hurting him!” Dorian screamed at Solas, a killer glare in his eyes. It was clouded with tears. Ferron was thrashing against the floor. His feet were kicking wildly. A few swings almost got Solas in the head, and he was so focused that he didn’t even flinch. Cullen made use of himself and managed to wrangle down his flailing legs. Ferron screamed, his cries were no longer those of a man, but the frightened screams of a terrified boy.

Ferron twisted his hand, attempting to free it from Dorian’s grip. “S-stop!” he shrieked as Solas pressed harder. His other hand unlatched from Dorian’s shirt and flattened against his face. He attempted to push Dorian away by his face – just as he did in the nightmare. He held back a sob as he locked their fingers and pulled it to his chest. His arms formed an x over his chest. He continued to try and pull away. “Dorian!”

As much as Dorian wanted to shove Solas away, to end Ferron’s suffering, he knew that Solas had a plan – that he was doing this for a reason. “Shh . . . it’s alright my love . . . I’m right here . . .” Dorian started, speaking in a low whisper. It was lost behind screaming. “I promise . . .” he choked, praying for this tortured display to end quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to get back into the groove of this story, actually excited to get the ending done. Shouldn't be long now! Anyways, thanks for reading and for all the positive feedback I've received on this story! It was more risky for me to sort of dig into more darker elements in my writing, but I am actually enjoying it and your support and love has been amazing! A thousand times thank you! <3


	14. Desperate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I wouldn't abandon it! It's late, but now is better than never! :D Hope you enjoy! :3

_"Waiting for you to rescue me, my love, come back from the dead. You have a better heart . . ."_ -In This Moment, Bones

 

“ _You’re killing him!_ ” Cassandra snarled, striding across the room towards the small huddle. Vivenne grabbed the crook of her elbow, keeping her from cutting in. She turned towards her, anger on her face. The screams continued to crowd the air, grating everyone’s ears. They were all immune to death, but seeing their leader – their _friend_ – suffering in such a manner, especially when it was inflicted by another member of their team . . . it was excruciating to watch. The most painful aspect for all those in the room was watching Dorian silently endure his lover’s pain.

“Seeker, do not intervene in the ritual.” She advised, dropping her hand from Cassandra. Vivienne knew that the magic Solas was using did not come from any Circle training. She had never seen anyone counteract the effects of a Spirit Bomb. Necromancy was a dangerous type of magic, one that only the brave attempted. Dorian’s mishap with the magic could cost them their Inquisitor – the only one who was able to close the Breach.

“This isn’t working, Solas.” Dorian spoke through barred teeth, barely pronouncing the words. Solas had his eyes closed, obvious focus on his face. Ferron’s body was still tense, but his fighting had become weak. He was clutching tight onto Dorian, their hands were still entwined and crossed on his bare chest. His stomach twitched in pain. The screams were weaker now, hoarse and quieter. He was giving up.

“His own magic is interfering with the spell,” he breathed, sounding weaker than he looked. “I can try another . . .” he trailed off. He shifted, moving his hand higher on his abdomen, just below his chest. The orange color changed to a light purple. Ferron relaxed, his hands loosened around Dorian’s fingers. His breathing calmed – whatever Solas had been doing stopped.

“What are you-,” Dorian looked at him before he heard a low hum of energy. His eyes flickered to Solas’ hand. The purple energy dimed to jet black. Dorian’s eyes widened, recognizing the spell he was going to cast. It was one Mages only studied about – one that needed immense power and a lot of Lyrium for any normal Mage to even attempt. If Solas were to be interrupted at all, or waver in his power, Ferron would be killed. “ _Don’t-!_ ”

Vivenne stepped forward, “ _Solas!_ ”

Ignoring their plea, Solas cast his spell. A black light shot through Ferron’s skin, halting a pained cry in his throat. He went limp against Dorian, his head rolled back into Dorian’s lap. Dorian no longer felt his heartbeat under his hands. He snarled, ready to grab Solas but Cullen and Cassandra moved quickly. They grabbed Dorian’s arms, shoving him back against the wall. Solas and Vivienne helped pick up Ferron and move him out of danger. Vivienne gave Solas a knowing glance, one of curiosity. The spell originated from old Elven magic, but not even Solas should be able to perform such magicks…unless he was more powerful than he let on.

“What’s going on here-? _Oh Maker_ . . . Amatus!” All eyes shifted to the person who entered, a person who was already in the room. He ran to Ferron, dropping to his knees and pulling Ferron into his arms. Vivienne and Solas exchanged glances before turning towards Cullen and Cassandra – who had Dorian restrained. The man who entered _was_ Dorian.

“That’s the _Demon_ \- kill her!” Dorian snarled, pulling against Cassandra and Cullen. With Ferron out cold, he wouldn’t be affected by any spells. Solas was able to deactivate the past threat, as impossible as it was, he managed to cut Ferron off from the Fade temporarily. This meant that Dorian would be able to fight back without harming Ferron. Fire shot through his exposed hand, searing towards the Demon.

“What are you doing?!” The other Dorian stumbled away from Ferron, barely dodging the fire. He scrambled to his feet, moving away from Ferron to keep him out of harm. “Solas, _move Ferron!_ ” He ordered as flames engulfed his hands. “You’re not hurting him _again!_ ” He screamed.

Dorian kicked wildly, ripping away from their grasp. In truth, they let him escape, completely shocked at seeing double. They stared at each other, their jaws hanging open, unable to even process what was going on. Dorian’s eyes were blazing towards his double. “I’m going to enjoy _ending_ you, Essence.” He growled, losing his grip on himself. Seeing him – _her_ – here made him question the reality. Was she toying with him again? Was this the Fade?

“You need to stop them both . . .” Vivienne whispered to Solas, no longer caring as to how he was able to cast the spell. The situation needed to be handled, and if that was how, so be it. Cullen would have drew his sword, but he didn’t know who to use it on. The same went for Cassandra. The Dorians were going to tear each other apart, and it needed to be stopped. Solas understood this, even if it were to expose him further. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to focus his energy on the spell. When his eyes opened, he pulled his arms back before shoving them through the air. Two black balls shot from his hands, flying towards both of them. It rippled up their skin, engulfing them and triggering an identical cry of pain. Both of them collapsed on the ground, limp and unconscious.

Leliana shoved through the bedroom door with Blackwall on her heels. Cole followed shortly behind them, sensing the severity of the situation, he informed Leliana to come along. “ _What is_ \- how did this happen?” She demanded, her eyes took in the situation. The Dorians were laying on the floor, directly across from each other. Vivenne and Solas were placing Ferron on the bed, keeping him away from the Dorians. They didn’t know when Ferron would wake up – they didn’t know anything about the spell – but whatever was going on needed to be stopped, and it needed to end _now_.


	15. Shattered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So close to the finish line I can almost taste it! Thanks for sticking with me thus far! :)

_"I'm so sick of you telling me that I will burn, I will not be free" -_ In This Moment, Natural Born Sinner

 

His skin dragged along the rough stone. It grinded against his flesh and shocked him enough to cause his eyes to snap open as his limbs flail to life. “ _Ferron-!_ ” he gasped, forcing his legs to cooperate and fling him towards the shutting iron gate. It slammed against his body with a hollow ringing that reminded him how badly he failed to protect the one he loves. His arms hung in defeat over the bars, his legs hadn't even captured ground. He was slumped against the bars and had no motivation to recapture his dignity and stand.

“Until this is sorted out, you'll _both_ remain here.” Cullen spoke grimly, a note of authority and fear in his voice. His shoes clicked away, and when the oddly comforting sound faded, Dorian found himself in a numbing silence. He knew someone else was there with him, but he didn't bother speaking to it. This was its fault - but no matter how hard he tried to pin all the blame on this Demon, a pricking guilt poked under his skin. He couldn't shake it.

“ _Dorian! Help me!_ ” A mocking cry echoed around the prison, bouncing off the walls like a devious cackle. “ _Make it stop! Please!_ ” The cry was no longer a thinly veiled copycat, it felt real as it slashed through Dorian's body. He gritted his teeth and curled his hands into tight fists, silence was his weapon to wield. “ _You're hurting me, Dorian! Maker, please stop!_ ” Despite the heart wrenching sob that originated from the cell across from him, Dorian could clearly hear an artificial growl rumble beneath the words.

“The Inquisitor does not believe in the Maker, nor the Creators. If you are going to mock someone, do so _properly_ , Demon.” Dorian retorted through his teeth, keeping a tight control over his voice. He shifted, pressing harder against the gate but adjusting himself so the Demon was in eyesight. If she was going to try anything, Dorian wouldn't sit idle. He could feel the magic in his body humming back to life.

“A cell will not hold me, Dorian, _you_ of all people know this.” Essence taunted him, shifting to a scout of the Inquisition that Dorian faintly remembered seeing around Skyhold. She moved gracefully to her feet, her hands wrapped around the bars of the cell and she harshly rattled them with a low, antagonizing chuckle; Dorian's voice rang harshly from her lips, “ _Let me go! None of this was my doing! Cullen! Cassandra! Get me out of here!_ ” She gave the bars one hard yank before ripping her hands off the iron and sinking into the shadows.

Dorian rested his head against the bars. He closed his eyes, attempting to conjure up happy memories he shared with Ferron. He recalled his scent, his taste, his laugh, and those beautiful green-yellow eyes that always seemed so curious. In the cold of the cell, he found warmth in the thought of Ferron's skin once against his own. All of his memories were disrupted when the door echoed open. He automatically jumped to his feet, and in the cell across from him he heard movement. She had shifted back to him. Dorian couldn't recall how long he had been lost in his head.

Cullen, Cassandra and Leliana entered. They moved like shadows and were as silent as death itself. There was no sign of Ferron. Cassandra stepped forward and glanced at the both of them with a small dart of her eyes, her fists were clenched by her sides. “We are still unsure who is the correct Dorian . . . however, we felt that we should inform you . . . The Inquisi- _Ferron_ . . . he did not survive the process.” The words sounded as if they stuck in her throat. She held back a sob and dropped her head before pivoting and rushing out of the prison. The others followed in the same fashion, except for Cullen who glared a little too long at Dorian.

Essence leaned against the gate and let out a low cry, forced tears streaming from her face. She rattled the cage, screaming after them in Dorian's voice. Dorian swallowed hard, the words barely processing until his knees buckled out from under him. He collapsed to the rough stone, his palms scratching against the cold ground. Tears clouded his vision and he could hear nothing but his heart hammering against his skull. A low ringing hummed in his ears and suddenly nothing but pure anger flooded his system.

He whipped around in his cell, frantically shuffling through the rubble that lined the back wall. Curious at the sudden commotion, Essence leaned into the iron and strained the Scout's tawny eyes on Dorian's back. “Did madness claim you before I could? Such a _pity_ \- a mind like _yours_ could change the world. _Tsk tsk tsk_.” She fired, toying with him, acting as if she knew something he did not.

He was too focused to care. His marred hands gripped the sharpest stone he could find. Pushing to his feet, he turned towards Essence and pressed the sharp end of the stone against the inside of his forearm. His eyes were blazing as he stared at Essence, his mind reeling with a dangerous mix of anger and grief. “The man I love is dead because of you.” He started, pressing harder on the rock until it pierced his skin. He clenched his teeth in pain but continued, “I'm going to make you wish you had _never_ laid your eyes on Skyhold.” His voice held a threat that would not go unnoticed. Rage visibly rolled off his body as the rock dragged further along his skin. He could smell a ting of copper in the air.

Essence's eyes widened as she faltered against the gate. She took a slight step back, whatever cocky smirk she previously held turned to a look of shock and fear. “Whatever you do to me _won't_ matter, Dorian. They'll strike you down for turning to Blood Magic. You'll be killed, or worse, made _Tranquil_. Do you really want to risk that? Never able to burry Ferron, never tell his family what happened. Never get to say _goodbye_.” She pleaded, still fighting to keep the situation under control. She was linked to the living plain until she picked her permanent host, and that host was making a deal with a demon.

Dorian threw the rock to the ground, a hum of energy surrounding him as a faint glow began to charge in his eyes. “You will never utter his name again!” Dorian shouted, his vision blurred. The Fade seemed to glitch in and out of his vision before a low voice entered his mind, whispering promises in exchange for his soul. Dorian swallowed hard, focusing harder on the Fade.

_“I couldn't be a Blood Mage, the sight of my own blood makes me faint.” Ferron laughed lightly as he moved closer to Dorian's shoulder. He wrapped his arm around Dorian's and entwined their fingers. His eyes never left the stars that dotted the sky, however._

_“But not other's blood?” Dorian questioned, his eyebrows raised in a confused fashion. He turned his head to look at Ferron, enjoying the way his profile looked against the night air._

_“No, it never has.” Ferron shrugged lightly. There was a moment of silence before he swallowed gently, “stop me if I overstep, but what about you? Was Blood Magic ever an option?” His voice was hesitant, but it was apparent to Dorian that he meant no harm._

_Dorian shook his head, his tone was grim. “I suppose when someone tries to use it on you . . . the very thought of it becomes frightening. Resorting to Blood Magic would make me my father, and that is someone I never want to be.” There was resolve in his voice, but it did not hide the fear that lingered. He pressed his lips together and felt Ferron's eyes weigh heavy on his temple. “But enough of such depressing topics,” Dorian commanded as he suddenly rolled onto Ferron, leaving Ferron a giggling mess while he placed sweet kisses all over his face and neck._

Dorian halted his mind, and the Fade began to pull away. It went out of focus, fading from his thoughts. The light in his eyes dimmed and his right hand instinctively covered his wound, stopping the blood flow as best as he could. He closed his eyes and felt tears push from his eyes and roll down his cheeks. He dropped his head and slumped back to the ground. “You will _never_ have my sanity,” he snarled to Essence, speaking with enough conviction in his voice to make her even believe. That sweet, innocent laughter gave him a reason to end her - permanently.


	16. Deception

" _You look in [his] eyes and know [he's] seen some shit._ "— Poussey Washington, Orange In The New Black

 

“Dorian!” He cried, shooting upright and gasping as he did so. His breathing was shallow and fast. His throat burned and his words rasped. The memory of what happened before was too painful to recall. His mind had blurred most of it out for his own protection. From what he could remember, there were two Dorians...and at the end, both of them had been disabled. He saw it from the Fade, and while one manifested as a demon, the other was his Vhenan. But his voice had been stifled, and he could not tell those in the room who was who.

“Careful, _da'len_ , do not strain yourself.” Solas spoke gently by his side, placing a soft hand on his shoulder and grounding him back to the reality around him. “How do you feel?” He added, with an uncertainty that Ferron had never heard before. There was a flash of guilt in his eyes, something that was not uncommon - but it had never been directed _at_ Ferron before.

Ferron looked around silently, taking in his surroundings as if he had never been here before. His bedroom was completely empty save him, Solas, and Ferron's fennec puppy that was curled up next to his legs. Its ear twitched, but he remained asleep. “I...” his voice trailed then his eyes opened wide, remembering his previous stream of thoughts, “Dorian? Is he alright?”

Solas dropped his gaze and placed his hand on the sheets. “As far as we know, they are _both_ alright. It seems this Demon has finally decided to take his shape, but the real Dorian is obviously still living.” This all fascinated Solas, but he tried to stay sympathetic towards the situation. He glanced back at Ferron to measure his reaction, but his eyes did not linger.

Ferron looked at him in confusion and awe. Solas was holding something back, something that weighed heavy on his conscience. “Where is he?” The question was almost a whisper, the words were suddenly tight in his throat and his heart began to hammer in his chest. He was met with hollow silence. “Where. Is. Dorian.” The words were a command, one that could not be argued with.

Solas felt the pressure. He stood from the bed and walked towards the stain glass windows that lead to the balcony. They were shut for the first time he could recall. Solas studied the decorative glass for a brief moment. A sigh pushed past his lips, he glanced over his shoulder, “They are in the prison.”

“ _And?_ ” Ferron demanded, leaning forward. There was a dull throbbing that developed rapidly behind his eyes.

The bald elf swallowed hard, his hands clasped behind him, “we came to the conclusion that they should remain in the prisons until we can sort all of this out.” He spoke hurriedly. It was all very out of character for Solas. Ferron's suspicions were growing, and his patients were thinning. Solas obviously sensed this because he suddenly turned towards Ferron and assured him, “I may have a solution that will both identify which Dorian is "real" and destroy the Demon.”

“I'm sensing a 'but'. What's the condition?” Outwardly unfazed, Ferron hung his legs over the side of the bed and cradled his head in his hands, attempting to calm the roaring pound trapped in his skull. “There is something you are not telling me, Solas.” His words were surprisingly aggressive, and a low snarl seemed to rip from his throat behind them. Suddenly, his vision blurred and his fingers curled into his hair. He let out a cry of pain that immediately triggered Solas to run to his side.

“Inquisitor!” He gasped, sitting on the bedside and placing his hands on Ferron. The sharp, greenish glow of the Anchor caught his eye. “What's wrong?” He tried to keep his voice calm, not wanting to further upset the situation.

His teeth were clenched, baring his abnormally long canines that all elves possessed. Sharp pains rolled through his being, and they seemed to emanate through his anchored hand. “My _hand!_ ” He gasped through the pain. He curled forward, placing his head in his knees and hiding there. He felt Solas place a hand on his neck, but it was unnecessary. As soon as the pain seemed to start - it had stopped completely. It sucked out of him like a vacuum, erasing any trace of pain.

Solas waited patiently, still lingering by Ferron's side even after his breathing had calmed. Ferron continued to rest his head on his legs, but he shifted so he could look at Solas. “This needs to end _now_.” His voice was low and somber.

Solas nodded, “We need to get you back in the Fade.” His previous plan had failed with Dorian. The mage survived, but the tactic was meant to destroy an Envy demon, not a Desire demon. It still confused Solas as to why a Desire demon wanted to _be_ Ferron rather than just tempt him enough to claim his soul. “I’m afraid I cannot tell you more – you just need to trust me.”

Ferron lifted his head and looked Solas dead in the eye, “I’m all out of trust, Solas. I need results. I don’t care what you have to do at this point, I just want out of this nightmare.” He stood from the bed, unsure how Solas was planning on ‘zapping’ him into the Fade. He was a little light headed, so he rested his hand on the bed stand for support.

“Give me your marked hand, Inquisitor. It might hurt, but once you’re in the Fade, you’ll feel nothing. Remember – everything there is a manifestation of someone else’s imagination.” Ferron did as he was told. Solas’ skin was surprisingly soft, his touch was gentle and warm. It actually didn’t surprise Ferron that the old elf felt that way, but for some reason he was expecting something different.

“I’m ready.” There was a burst of light between them. Green light swelled inside the room until it burst. Pain flew up Ferron’s arm, shooting him backwards as a pained yelp cried from his lips. He smacked into the wall, his head hitting the wall with a hard smack. His vision blurred and he groaned in pain. Solas walked towards him, an eerie, black light surrounding his being. He loomed over Ferron, and for whatever reason, Ferron felt scared. “Solas…”

His vision went black.


	17. Drowning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Drowning

_"I hate you for always choosing me and not someone else..."_ \- Blood, In This Moment

 

A cool breeze tickled his face. His eyes fluttered open, his hand curled around the emerald grass and suddenly he realized where he was. He sat up quickly, looking around to the area in the Fade where he commonly went to with Dorian. It was a perfect temperature, something that was comfortable both for Dorian and Ferron. It was their home away from home, and it felt spoiled.

“Do not be alarmed, Ferron Lavellan. I cannot fend the Demon of Desire off for much longer, so I must speak quickly.” His voice was soft and all too familiar. Ferron stood and brushed himself off, assuming that it was a Demon Solas sent to help solve all of this. When he looked up, however, he almost leaped backwards. “F- _father?!_ ”

“This is a comfortable shape for you, is it not? You did not know the man, but you find comfort in his presence. Am I wrong?” The Demon raised an eyebrow, and if this was really the true shape of his father, Ferron finally saw where he got most of his features from. The same mix of green-yellow that only Ferron received came directly from the man he never met. “I am not here to harm you.” The Demon added.

Ferron dropped his gaze and then nodded. The Demon continued, not giving him enough time to process anything. He was running out of time, and the illusion of paradise was beginning to crack. “I have been watching you – nothing more. Your life is intriguing, but I would not wish to ruin it. Essence does not rule over this part of the Fade, but she is attempting to take it. Her control is not secured yet – she needs you. The Anchor has secured this place, and without destroying the anchor, she will be sent back to her realm – far away from here. I cannot help you in this state, but I can direct you.”

It turned away from Ferron, and with a low hum of energy, it sliced it hands through thin air, ripping apart the seams of the Fade. The place behind the rips was dark and foreboding. It pulled the rips open, creating a portal to that dark place. “This is where you will confront Essence and gain the power you need to finish her.”

Ferron nodded again. He advanced towards the portal and peered into it, a wave of anxiety washed over him. He could feel how close he was to the end of this chaos that had twisted and wretched every part of his life into a mangled knot. He was tired of seeing Dorian cry, and he – himself – was tired of crying. Suddenly, he stopped and turned towards him. “How much do you know of my father?”

The Demon dropped his head, “I only know as much as you know. I saw him once in your manifestations.” He turned away and looked around in the distance. He could see the cracks in the environment, and the darkness began to crawl over the vast planes of Ferron’s favorite place. “You must go now, Ferron. You don’t have time, _my son_.” The words felt natural to both of them. A last bit of encouragement that pushed Ferron into the portal.

He felt it clamp shut behind him. The new area he was in looked like a prison cell. The dark bricks were damp with water that leaked from the bumpy roof. It reminded him of the cell at Haven, but it was smaller and more of a single room. There were no cells. “Essence?” He squinted into the darkness, moving towards the dim light at the back of the room. A single ball of a person was leaning against the wall, curled up and alone. He heard the sloshing of water splashing below his feet. Without realizing it, he began running. “Dorian!” The room turned into a never ending hallway, stretching before him and moving his goal further and further away.

As soon as his pace changed to a full sprint, cold chains clamped around his wrists. They yanked him backwards towards the wall opposite of Dorian. The ever extending hallway changed back into the room he had originally ended up in. His back smacked into the bricks and he was forced to the ground. The length of his restriction shortened, keeping him close to the wall and giving him little room for freedom.

The small puddle he landed in began to grow underneath him, spreading in the sealed, stone room. “ _Shit…_ ” he gasped, trying to shift in his spot. His deep, embedded fear of water began to flare up. Anxiety and panic began to flood in his system, just as the water began to flood his new prison. Dorian simply stayed by the wall, his legs tucked securely in his chest. His head was tucked in his knees.

The water was up to his waist when he started to yank away from the wall. The chains rattled violently. He was twisting wildly, trying to get better leverage to pull the chains out of the wall. The chains began to cut into his wrists, causing blood to ebb down his forearm and drip into the water. He kicked, trying to contort his body into to some sort of position that would keep him from getting stuck under the water. It was rising rapidly.

 “ _Sathan_ Creators,” he pleaded desperately, breathing hard and rapidly. Ferron didn’t believe in the Creators, but right now he would believe in anything if it saved him and Dorian. He continued his struggle, angling his head upwards when the water encased his neck. It was cold and unforgiving. His lower body was floating, and he was trying hard to keep some sort of footing but where the chains were wouldn’t allow him to shift enough to stand. He was being forced under, and either the water was getting higher, or the chains were dragging him lower.

He glanced quickly at Dorian, he hadn’t moved at all. It shocked him at first – how was Dorian not affected by this? But suddenly it struck him, it may not be affecting him here, but dying in the Fade would kill him in the real plane. He didn’t even want to know that, deep in the dark folds of Dorian’s cell, he was shivering. Soon he would be gasping and writhing for air.

“Enough with this torture, I know you want to end this as much as I do. So I have an ultimatum for you.” The water lapped up at his chin, but it stopped rising. “My dear Ferron, as the Inquisitor, it is my understanding that you are forced to make the decisions no one else wants to make. Some are easy and have little effect, and some effect the balance of the world entirely. It looks like this situation is one that will cost two _very_ important lives. If you had to choose between Dorian and yourself, who would you choose?”

She was standing in front of Ferron, the purple fire still surrounding her, not being phased by the water at all. She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. “I, personally, couldn’t make such a choice. I love you both so much – you’re lives are exciting. The love you hold…even your mark is linked to his energy. He suffers, you suffer. No matter where you are, he will always be drawn to you. I _desire_ such a thing, but sadly, Demons do not hold love for anything. We _are_ sinners at heart.” She laughed, her voice echoing around the small area. “Time to make your decision, Ferron! You have _little_ time…” She disappeared, and the water continued to rise.

Ferron’s sanity had been shaken before in her games, but this time he snapped. “Dorian!” he screamed, before ducking under the water and twisting just enough to plant his feet firmly on the wall. He kicked off, magic flowing through his veins. It illuminated the water, lighting up the blurry objects. He wrapped the chains around his bloodied forearms and yanked as hard as he could. His lungs felt like they were about to burst, causing more panic to rise in his system. He twisted again, popping his head up in the closing gap between the roof and the surface of the water.

His only thought was to shake Dorian from this state he was in. He started screaming his name, his voice breaking over and over with every wasted breath. Her voice rang in his ears, “He can’t hear you! Too consumed with the _grief_ of his loss! Poor Dorian, almost giving into Blood Magic for _little old you_!” It was taunting and high pitched, a frequency that played over and over in his mind. _He can’t hear you…_

There was a thin space now, just enough for his lips and nose to not be submerged. “ _Choose_ Inquisitor!” He gasped once more, tears streamed down his face like an unrelenting force. His chest was in a vice, and his heart was beating hard beneath his skin. He tried to slip out of the chains once more – a weak effort at this point. Water rippled into his mouth, triggering him to cough, wasting more air from his lungs. With the last breath he was allowed, he made his decision.

“ _Dorian._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sathan = please


	18. Unconscious

_"Don’t take that sinner from me..." -_ Devil's Backbone, The Civil Wars

 

_Large, black jaws dipped into the red, tinted waters that surrounded the unconscious body of the Inquisitor. The mark on his hand sparked irregularly, flashing in short bursts through the space. Its teeth gently encased his shoulder, giving the same amount of pressure it would to its cub. The chains around his wrists disintegrated at the links, sinking to the bottom where the Inquisitor once was. The wolf pulled him from the water and dragged him back onto the soft, grassy plains of Ferron’s safe place in the Fade._

_The Inquisitor laid motionless, his body limp and lifeless. His lips were blue, his skin lost its once vibrant glow. The wolf’s black nose nuzzled gingerly at his cheek. When Ferron didn’t move, its pink tongue dragged up his temple. A low whine vibrated from its large chest. The color began to return to his skin and his toe twitched. The wolf yipped and sat back on its haunches. “Welcome back, Inquisitor.”_

When Ferron came back into consciousness, he was pleasantly surprised to realize that he was no longer submerged in water. Instead, his head was resting on a patch of soft, black fur. His head was moving slowly up and down with the steady breathing of the large wolf that saved him. He sat up slowly, his head heavy under the fog of the recent events. He looked around quietly, not even realizing the deity he was laying on.

The wolf’s head raised and turned to him. Three red eyes stared back at him – they were in the formation of a triangle. The beast blinked, and Ferron suddenly twisted to his hands and knees and dove away. “ _Druast fen’harel_ …” he gasped. He stared at the wolf with wide eyes. “ _What_ are you – you… _saved_ me?” He glanced around, noticing the familiar safe place he created. It felt safe again – pure. And here, in his sacred place, was a god he did not even _believe_ in.

Ferron relaxed, leaning back on his hands. The wolf shifted, lifting itself off the bed and moving back to sit on its legs. Despite its massive size, it moved with a graciousness that Ferron couldn’t quite explain. A breeze caused its black fur to shift, revealing a glossy coat that mystified Ferron. The black creature bowed its head, offering its forehead to the Inquisitor.

Ferron took a deep breath and slowly got to his feet, gathering his courage to face this entity. He didn’t have much to lose, and after all, he owed it his life. He stepped towards it, reaching out his hand to touch its soft, warm forehead. _“I couldn’t just let the only hope to secure the Fade die because a Demon is attempting to grasp at control she is not warranted.”_ Ferron almost jumped, his voice was proud and strong, it echoed around his mind and sent chills through his body.

“You are against this Demon?”

 _“I cannot choose sides, the Fade is not mine to control. I simply observe and root for those I feel are likely to benefit this realm. That is another topic entirely, however. I can give you the power needed to destroy Essence, to infuse your Mark with the ability to erase her existence entirely. It will be one of the biggest fights of your life, and the cost of failing could potentially blow Skyhold off the map, along with all those within its walls.”_ The wolf raised its head slightly, its red eyes focused on Ferron.

Ferron dropped his head, his fingers curled gently into the wolf’s fur. “I…I won’t fail. She’ll regret ever taking an interest in my life.” A white light formed at the base of his palm, and as it rolled through his hand, it began to pulse green energy up the veins of his hand. It was painless, but his head became light and swimmy. His fingers tingled.

 _“This is your burden now, Ferron. Ask yourself this before you follow through: is every member of Skyhold worth the life of the man you love?”_ He stood from the ground, gently leaning into Ferron's hand. _“I will summon her, prepare yourself.”_ It was more of a command than a warning. The wolf turned and sprinted off into the mist that began to form around Ferron.

_"Dala ash, da'len." The wolf lifted up its large muzzle to the sky. It was moonless, but that didn't stop its powerful jaws from opening. Its lips pushed forward and a deep, haunting howl rose high in the quiet air, shaking the Fade at its very core. A piercing shriek followed, and in the distance, the wolfs deep crimson eyes spotted the sweeping darkness that covered the skies. The lone Inquisitor readied himself, his mark glowing brightly through the mist. He stood directly in the middle of the calming fog and the onslaught of destruction that barrelled towards him. "Dirthara-ma, Essence."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Druast = Holy  
> Dala ash, da'len = End her, little one/child  
> Dirthara-ma, Essence = May you learn, Essence


	19. Destruction

" _If you love me let me go_  
 _‘Cause these words are knives and often leave scars_  
 _The fear of falling apart_  
 _And truth be told, I never was yours_  
 _The fear, the fear of falling apart..._ "

-Panic! At The Disco, This Is Gospel

 

A new type of energy surged through his body, a type of pure power that he had never dreamed of experiencing. It was exhilarating and absolutely frightening, but he needed to harbor this power as if it was his own. Essence would smell the fear from a mile away. A deep purple flame shot down from the blackness that loomed over him. It exploded into the ground, expanding along the grass that melted into dark brown dirt. She sprouted from the center of the flames, rising like the dead from six feet under.

“Found yourself a new _pet_ , did you Ferron? He can’t _help_ you now.” She taunted as she stepped towards him, there was something about her – something that seemed…off. Rich, purple fire engulfed her hands. “Remember, _my dear Inquisitor_ ,” she sounded just like Dorian, and Ferron’s heart wretched in his chest. “ _I don’t play fair._ ”

She extended her hand in a ridged motion, lifting it as if there was a weight bearing down upon it. Her hand shook and then froze in the air. A snap of magic flashed in the air and then Ferron felt a presence behind him. It seemed to burn in the back of his neck. She laughed a shrill tune before pulling her arm back into her body and evaporating back into her darkness.

Ferron spun, and a tightly balled fist crashed down upon his jaw. “Fucking _Mage!_ You’ve cursed this whole family – another _blemish_ on your _tainted_ life. You’re _worthless_ , Ferron.” Ferron flew to the ground, his body was frail again, unbuilt and weak. He was 16 again, only just discovered his magic and how it changed his life forever. A foot came swinging into his ribs, shattering them on contact. A spurt of blood burst from his lips and spattered on the ground.

“Irras- _please!_ ” He gasped, his lungs constricting, feeling like they had been punctured by one of his ribs. A hand clamped around his chin and forced him to look at his attacker. This isn’t what happened. This isn’t how it happened. His brothers fought with words, never with violence. “You’re not real. This is not real… _not real_.” He whispered, rolling in pain.

The image warped, and his brother morphed into the Demon that hunted him. She gripped his chin harder, her fingernails piercing his skin. Blood ebbed around her fingers and he screamed in agony. With an alarming amount of strength, she flung him across the area by his head alone. The dirt cut into his skin, leaving open scratches and bruises on his once unmarred skin. “You are too _weak_ to fight, Inquisitor! You have every right to _fear_ me!”

Ferron’s breathe wheezed, and it was followed by a hard cough that made his chest ache. His arms weakly pulled him through the dirt as he attempted to crawl away. He could feel her powerful energy engulfing him, swallowing him whole. He spit up more blood before rolling on his back. The pain that swelled in his body made him forget about the power that his Mark contained.

She was right at his feet, a wicked grin on her lips. Her entire body morphed into Dorian, a form she knew all too well for comfort. It was his naked form, an exact replica. It made Ferron wonder how long this Demon had been watching or even _acting_ as Dorian. _Was she there when they had sex?_ Essence moved quickly after his slow attempt to flee. “Come here, _da’len._ ” She cooed as she straddled his stomach. The back of her hand caressed his cheek, but it felt like poison.

When Ferron attempted to pull away, her hand smacked hard into his cheek. When his face pressed into the blood matted dirt, she gripped his chin again and forced his face back. “Be a good boy and make this easy.” She commanded, her hand wrapped around his neck and her fingernails began to dig into his skin.

Tears poured from his eyes. He knew it was Essence, but the pain and the blood loss made his mind foggy. He was suddenly afraid for Dorian’s life. The power he held – he knew it was a onetime shot. If this was another sick nightmare and Dorian was actually, somehow, on the other end…all those he loved could potentially die. Was Dorian’s life worth that many people? Was _his_ life worth the entirety of Skyhold?

Another decision had to be made, and he was once again out of time. The Mark flared to life, crackling with raw energy. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes tightly, pushing the tears from his vision. He felt weak, his body was tingling. Soon he would be numb. Dorian’s nails punctured into his flesh. “ _Ar'm abelas, Vhenan._ ”

With the last drop of his strength, his hand smacked into Dorian’s proud chest. The mark roared with power, shooting out what looked like lightning right into her chest. She forcibly changed back to her true self. Her head was thrown backwards as an agonizing cry ripped from her lungs. Black light shot from her opened mouth and reached deep into the dark skies above. White light began to feed through the cracks forming in her skin. Not a second later, her entire body was sucked into the center of the pure light – the nightmare was over.

His body was cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ar'm abelas, Vhenan = I'm sorry, Heart


	20. Coda

_"At the end of the deal, the goals are simple: safety and security."_ \- Jodie Rell

 

“ _Fasta vass, don’t you dare leave me here with these people!”_ His voice was distant, like a dream that cannot be remembered in its entirety. _“Ferron Pryce Lavellan, wake up, you bastard!”_ It was louder this time, more clear. It caused something to stir just below the surface, something that persuaded him away from his grassy paradise. _“Please! I love you too much to lose you now!”_ He skin twitched when a single, warm tear dropped onto his cheek.

“Dorian? What are you-…” his voice wavered. His eyes squeezed shut before fluttering open. He swallowed hard and tried to find more words. He felt weak, but heat was returning to his skin. He could feel it in his toes.

“ _Festis bei umo canavarum_ ,” the voice spoke once more, but it was clearer. The words were crisp and proper. They were welcoming and familiar – he was home. His hand lifted from the bed and reached for that velvety voice. “I’m here, Amatus, _I’m here_ …” his smile was broad and he laughed in relief. He guided Ferron’s hand to his cheek and he held it there, leaning into the softness of his lover’s touch. Ferron’s fingertips became damp with Dorian’s tears.

“Have I ever mentioned how much I _hate_ Demons?” He chuckled, but he felt a dull pain in his side. “Come here, Dorian.” His hand moved to cup Dorian’s head. He pulled him closer, bringing their lips together. It was a sweet kiss, full of love and relief. When their lips separated, Dorian pressed his forehead against Ferron’s and he smiled blissfully. His warm breath brushed along Ferron’s face. The elf smiled warmly.

“Welcome back, Inquisitor. It is good to see you still live. I was worried for a moment.” Solas spoke gently as he entered the room. His hands were clasped behind his back and his chest was pushed forward with pride. “How are you feeling?” He moved easily into the room. His eyes glanced at Ferron’s marked hand, slight nervousness in his eyes. Ferron caught the look, and it made him uneasy. It was familiar.

Ferron planted another kiss on Dorian’s nose before he turned his head back to Solas. “I’m in a little pain, but it’s nothing compared to what I felt in the Fade. If the Fade isn’t real, how can I feel it here?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. He shifted slightly when Dorian crawled onto the bed. The Mage snuggled close to his side, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulled into him.

“The Fade is another realm, it can have a sort of bleeding affect. It will wear off, I’m sure. And the Anchor? It was quite active as you slept.” Solas gestured towards his hand. Ferron curled it inwards and then flexed, Dorian watched intently.

“It’s fine…the power, Solas…it was incredible…” he responded with awe. He turned towards Dorian and rubbed his chest gently, “I don’t want to stay in this room anymore. Let’s walk around a bit, maybe take a trip to the Emerald Graves.” He slowly moved his legs over the side of the bed. He winced in pain, and Dorian’s hands were suddenly on his shoulders.

“Ferron…” His voice sounded broken, just as it did after they discovered Ferron’s duplicate body. Ferron rested his hand on his, giving him a reassuring touch.

“I’m fine, my love. Go ready the mounts, I’ll send a letter to Fairbank and let him know we are coming.” He smiled and stood with assistance from Dorian. After he was on his feet, Dorian kissed his cheek and moved swiftly from the room. Ferron looked at Solas, curiosity in his eyes.

Their eyes met and something in Ferron’s head clicked. “I can’t imagine such power. It must have been invigorating.” He smiled gently and dropped his gaze. He suddenly turned away and moved to the balcony – the windows were open again. Bright light filtered through, and when Ferron followed him out, he was forced to squint into the light. Despite the assault on his eyes, he enjoyed the warmth and color. It was all real.

“Solas…” he rested his hands on the stone railing and leaned into it for support. “You don’t believe in Dalish gods, right?”

“I believe that they are merely people who possess immense power. Why?” He peered out into the courtyard, convincingly watching those below. Cassandra was sparring in the training ring with Blackwall. He was knocked backwards, and Cassandra chased him down with a wide swing of her sword above her head. The blade was at his neck, and it looked like they both started laughing. Those watching applauded. It must have been a long and epic fight. With the news of the Inquisitor’s recovery already spreading, a new air of joy wafted through Skyhold.

Ferron followed his gaze, but instead of landing on the ending spar, he followed Dorian. Sera ran to his side and the two of them engaged in conversation. As they walked towards the stables, they escaped from view. “Well, I met one of them…in the Fade…Fen’Harel.” He turned towards Solas and measured his reaction.

Solas dropped his gaze, “the Fade is a place that takes what you want to see and creates it.” He was quiet for a second and then he turned his head back towards Ferron, “is that who gave you the power to defeat her?”

“Yes – Solas, I don’t think it was just my imagination. He was…magnificent and…frightening. It was… _real_. You know I don’t believe in any sort of god…but the Dread Wolf is real. I know it.” He looked at the old elf with wonderment. Solas’ eyes met his, and the same feeling he had in the Fade suddenly re-emerged under his skin.

Solas didn’t speak. His eyes glanced down at the Mark half a second before it sparked with its normal green light. Ferron inhaled sharply through his teeth with a low hiss. He looked down at the hand then back up at Solas. There was a flash of triangular shaped, red dots on the center of his forehead. Ferron gasped.

He jumped when feet clipped up the stairs, “Ferron, darling, Truffles and my horse are ready. I had the Scouts send a letter to Fairbanks, we can leave whenever you are ready. You and I have a lot to talk about.” Dorian smiled and moved deeper into the room. When he noticed Solas, he stopped for a brief second and lowered his reaching hand.

“Solas…you…” Ferron stammered before dropping his gaze.

“I wish you well in your journey to the Graves.” Solas nodded his head and moved like a ghost through the room, leaving Ferron with more questions than answers.

Dorian smiled at Solas and once he was gone, he reached out for Ferron and grabbed his hand. “Are you alright?” He brushed his hand along his cheek and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Yes, I’m just…glad to be back.”

“I’m glad you’re back too, Ferron, and in one piece.” He placed more kisses on Ferron’s face, adoring his skin with love. “I love you so much, Ferron...after this, I feel as though Corypheus won’t be as big a deal.” He pressed his forehead against Ferron’s and sighed deeply.

“Let’s not focus on that – let’s just…focus on the now. We’re together and we’re safe.” He kissed Dorian’s nose and slipped his arms around the curve of Dorian’s back. He pulled him close and gripped the fabric of his shirt. His body shook as a sob pushed through him. “Dorian…” he wept.

Dorian placed his hand on the back of Ferron’s head and he held him tightly with his other hand. Tears were streaming silently down his own cheeks. “ _You’re safe_ …you’re safe, my love. It’s over. It’s _all_ over.” He kissed the top of Ferron’s forehead and continued to hold his shaking body. “ _You’re home_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand done! This has been a seriously wild journey and is, officially, the first chapter fic I have ever completed. I appreciate all your support and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I love all your feedback and encouragement. Again, if you have any questions, comments, concerns, prompts or just want to talk - you can contact me on Tumblr at FriendOfTheFugitive. Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
